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DENISON'S ACTING PLAYS. 

Price 15 Cents Sach, Postpaid. Catalogue Free. 



M. r. 



All that Glitters is not Gold, com- 
edy, 2 acts, 2 hrs 6 

All Expenses, lEthiopian, 10 min. 2 

ABsessor, sketch, 1 5 min 3 

Biibes in Wood, burle6qiie,35 min 4 
Borrowing Trouble, farce, 30 min 3 

Bad Job, farce, 30 min 3 

Fnimble's Courtship, slvetcb, 18 m. 1 
Bardell vs. Pickwick, farce, 25 m. 6 
Back from Californy, Ethiopian, 

12 min 3 

Caste, comedy, 3 acts^ 2 hrs. 30 m. 5 
Cow that Kicked Chicago, farce, 

20 min , 3 

Country Justice, farce, 15 min,... 8 

Circumlocution Oifice, 20 min 6 

Chimney Corner (or Grandfather's 

Mistake), drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 

30 min 5 

Danger Signal, drama, 2 acts, 2 hrs 7 
Desperate Situation^ farce, 25 min 2 
Deat'inallorn, Ethiopian, 8 min. 2 
East Lynne, drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs. 8 

Family Strike, farce, 20 min 8 

Fruits of Wine Cup, Temperance 

drama, 3 acts. 1 hr 6 4 

Friendly Move, sketch, 20 min ... 5 
Funnygraph, Ethiopian, 12 min.. 6 

Home, comedy, 3 acts, 2 hrs 4 3 

Handy Andy, Ethiopian, 12 min.. 2 
Haunted House, Ethiopian, 8min. 5 

Homoeopathy, farce, 30 min 5 

Hans Yon Smash, farce, 30 min,. 4 
Hard Cider, Temperance, 15 min. 4 
Initiating a Granger, farce, 25 m. 8 

In the Dark, farce, 25 min 4 

In the W^ron^ House, farce, 30 m. 4 
Irish Linen Peddler, farce, 40 min 3 
J a the Editor In, farce, 20 min. . . . 4 
I'll Stay Awhile, farce, 20 min.... 4 
Ici on Parle Prancais, farce, 40 m. 4 
I'm not Mesilf at All, farce, 25 m. 3 

John Smith, farce, 80 min 5 

Joke onSquinim, Ethioi). 25 min. 4 

Jumbo Jum, farce, 50 min 4 

Kansas Immigrants, farce, 80 m.. 5 
Kiss in the Dark, farce, 30 min. .. 2 
Louva the Pauper, drama, 5 acts, 

1 hr. 45 min 9 

Larkins' Love Letters, farce, 50 m. 3 
Lady of Lyons, drama, 5 acts, 3 

hrs. 30 min 8 

Limerick Boy, farce, 30 min 5 

Lost in London, drama, 3 acts, 1 

hr. 45 min 6 

London Assurance, comedy, 5 acts, 

2hrs.30min 9 

Lucy's Old Man, sketch, 15 min. . 2 
Michael Erie, drama, 2 acts, 1 hr. 

30 min 8 

Mike Donovan's Courtship, com- 
edietta, 2 acts, 15 min 1 

Movement Cure, farce, 15 min 5 

Mrs. Gamp's T^a, sketch, 15 min. 
Mischievous Nigger, farce, 20 min. 4 
My Wife's Relations, comedy, 1 hr 4 

My Jeremiah, farce, 20 min 3 

My Turn Next, farce, 50 min 4 

My Neighbor's Wife, farce, 45 m. 3 



U. V. 

Not Such a Fool as he Looks, com- 
edy, 3 acts, 2 hrs 5 8 

No Cure No Pay, Ethiopian, 10m. 8 1 
Only Daughter, drama, 3 acts, 1 

hr, 15min 5 2 

Our Country, drama, 3 acts, 1 hr,,10 S 
Odds with the Enemy, drama, 6 

^cts, 2hrs 7 4 

On the Brink, Temperance drama, 

2 acts, 2 hrs 12 8 

Othello and Desdemona, Ethio- 
pian, 12 min 2 

Pet of Parsons' Ranch, frontier 

drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs 9 8 

Pets of Society, farce, 30 min 7 

Pull Back, farce, 20 min 6 

Pocahontas, music'l b'rlesque, 1 h.lO S 

Parlor Entertainment, 25 min.,. 3 5 

Played and Lost, sketch, 15 min, . 8 2 

Persecuted Dutchman, 35 min .... 6 8 

Quiet Family, farce, 45 min 4 4 

Quar'some Serv'nts, Ethiop 8 min 3 

Regular Fix, farce, 50 min 6 4 

Rough Diamond, farce, 40 min. ,.48 
Solon Shingle, comedy, 2 acts, 1 

hr. 30 min 7 S 

Soldier of Fortune, comedy, 5 

acts, 2 hrs, 20 min 8 8 

Seth Greenback, drama, 4 acts, 1 

hr, 15 min " 7 3 

School Ma'am(Tho), drama, 4 acts, 

1 hr. 45 mm 6 B 

Stage Struck Darkey, 10 min — 2 1 
Stocks Up, Stocks Down, Ethio- 
pian, 8 min 8 

Sports on a Lark, Ethiopian, 8 m. 8 

Sham Doctor, Ethiopian, 15 min. 4 2 
Slasher and Crasher, farce, 1 hr. 

15 min 5 8 

Squeers' School, sketch, 18 min.. 4 2 
Sparkling Cup, Temperance 

drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs It 4 

Too Much of a Good Thing, farce, 

50min 3 6 

Two Gents in Fix, farce, SO min 2 

Tv/o Puddifoots, f arce^ 40 min ... 3 8 

Two Pompeys, Ethiopian, 8 min, 4 

Tricks, Ethiopian farce, 15 min,. 5 2 
Ticket of Leave Man, drama, 4 

acts, 2 hrs, 45 min 8 3 

Turn Him Out, farce, 50 min 3 8 

Toodles, drama, 2 acts, 1 hr 15 ra. 6 2 
Ten Nights in a Bar Room, Tem- 
perance drama, 5 acts, 2 hrs. .11 5 
Two Ghosts in White, sketch, 25 m 8 
Under the Laurels, drama, 5 acts, 

Ihr. 45min 5 4 

Unhappy Pair, Ethiopian. 10 min. 8 

Uncle Jeff, Ethiopian farce, 25 m. 5 2 
Wanted a Correspondent, farce, 2 

acts, 1 hr 4 4 

Wide Enough for Two, farce 50m. 5 2 

Which will be Marry, farce, 30 m. 2 8 
Won at Last, comedy, 3 acts, 1 hr. 

45 min 7 S 

Women of Lowenburg, Historical 

Sketch, 5 scenes, 50 min 10 10 

Yankee Detective, drama, 3 acts, 

2 hrs 8 8 



t. S.'DENISON, Publisher, 163 Randolph St., Chicago. 



SHADOW CASTLE 



A COMEDY DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS 



WITH ORIGINAL PLOT AND STAGE EFFECTS 



BY W. FARRAND FELCH, 

AUTHOR OF ''THE PET OF PARSON'S' RANCH.'* 



f 




CHICAGO : 

T. S. DENISON, Publisher, 

163 Randolph Street. 
Copyright, tSSS, by T. S. Denison. 



4 SHADOW CASTLE. 

ACTS. /9^ ^ ^ 

Act I. A Child of the Wave. 4^ ^ 

Act II. Wrecked in Port. ' . 

Act III. Snow-bound, 

Act IV. The Waifs Wedding. 

CHARACTERS. 

'* Flossy," the Angel of '' Shadow Castle." 

Amos Fog, the Demon of " Shadow Castle." 

Archie Saunders, a Man of the World, Stranded at Last. 

Rev. Peter Peters, " Peter, the Parson;" a Clergyman Adrift 
among Wolves. 

Jason Jarvis, One of the Wolves. 

Mrs. Malone, a Friend in Need. 

Jeannette Malmaison, Flossy's Maid; in Love with the Par- 
son. 

George Washington Jones; in Love with Flossy, but All in 
Vain. 

Mason, the Miner, and other miners and hunters ad. lib. 

Time — The Present Day. 

Location — On the Shores of Lake Michigan. 

Time of Playing — Two Hours. 

PROPERTIES. 

Act I. Scefie i. Tent, containing stores in small tin boxes, 
blankets, pipe, flask, a small bound book, and an oil portrait 
framed or unframed, of some handsome lady; dog ; boat in L. 
4 E. for Archie ; boat comes on R. 4 E. with Fog. Scene 2. 
A flask for Mrs. Malone. Scene 3. Baize cloth or dark carpet 
for water, to wave behind water borders from R. and L. 3 and 
4 entrances. Practical balcony seen R. 4 E., containing chairs, 
flower pots, and rope ladder to reach from balcony to water be- 



TMP92-008882 



SHADOW CASTLE. ^ 

low. Boat for Archie, sugar lumps, sewing and sewing basket 
and small book for Flossy ; boat for Fog ; pipes and punch- 
bowl filled with punch for Fog to offer to Archie ; rope, etc. 

Act II. Boat for. Archie ; torch for Fog ; pistol and flask 
for Archie. Scene 3. Book and pipe; coat and shoes for 
George to put on. The same oil portrait as in Act i. 

Act III. A prayer book for Jeannette in Scene i. Scene 3. 
A rope to bind Fog, fire-brands, etc. 

Act IV. A Christmas tree, small, neatly trimmed with trinkets 
and lights and surmounted with a wax cross ; prayer book and 
money bags for Fog to offer to Parson ; poison-phial for Fog. 

[Note — The Christmas tree scene can be omitted if pre- 
ferred.] 

SUGGESTIONS AS TO COSTUMES, 

Flossy. Short dresses of good material ; neat, attractive, 
but not gaudy. Vary the dress with each act. In Act 3, win- 
ter costume. Blonde hair streaming over shoulders. 

Amos. Rough hunter's suit, frayed and torn. 

Archie. Genteel sporting costume in Act i. In Act 2, 
with or without coat, adrift in the boat, — as you think best. 
Act 3, winter suit. Act 4, genteel suit. His costumes must 
not be too elaborate or varied, as a camper-out is not supposed 
to carry many suits. 

Peter. Long black coat, black pants ; high black cravat 
and standing collar, shabby genteel ; a thin cloak or cape. 

Jason and miners in rough suits. 

Jeannette. Plain dress and shawl. 

George. Rough hunter's suit. 

NOTE. 

This structure on piles can be constructed out of the stock 
scenery of any opera house or well-furnished hall. It can be 
made by placing a two-story cottage back C. in 4 extending 



6 SHADOW CASTLE. 

out half way across the stage or less, and have a balcony con- 
structed out from the second story strong enough to hold three 
or more people at a time. The first story can then be covered 
up with scenery to represent bushes, grasses, rushes, etc., and 
the piles can be real sticks of wood in front of this shrubbery 
and supporting the balcony, about six feet high. 

The better way, perhaps, if stage is large enough, is to con- 
struct on substantial wooden piles (as large as an ordinary 
telegraph pole) a platform to extend half-way across stage- 
This can be backed by a sea-horizon scene, which will show of 
course between the piles ; then, the part above the platform 
can be arranged, with suitable scenery, to represent a small 
house or a cabin, with a practical balcony as above. The 
whole should be substantially constructed so as to be drawn 
off, piles and all, without taking it apart, and can be easily 
made. The Author. 



BILL OF THE PLAY. 

Act I. ''The thief in the night;" ''Shadow Castle;" 
" Flossy " and Saunders; Surprised by Amos Fog; Adrift on 
Lake Michigan. 

Act II. Ashore in the fog; Amos Fog attempts to wreck 
a vessel; attempts to strangle Archie; is shot, and pleads for 
life; Back to Shadow Castle. 

Act III. Archie leaves Castle; compelled to return; Amos 
tortured by miners, rescued by Archie. 

Act IV. Retribution. Amos expiates his crimes. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — Open stage^ cut wood wings^ camp fire in L. 4 E.^ 
small tent R. Archie engaged in feeding fire at rise of cur- 
tain. Rises and stretches his arms above his head. Set rocks 4 
R. and L., kicked by water horizon. 

Archie. Well, I am now living the life of a good, hearty, 
comfortable bear. I am out in the wilderness away from civi- 
lization, and I feel myself free from the frivolity, the hypocrisy, 
the evil, the cowardice, and the falsity of the world. Now I 
can live close to nature, and mentally and physically become 
a man. Not a puppet, not a fashion-plate, as I was when I 
mingled in the gay circles of society, but a man. Here I have 
all that life holds of real worth. The sun, the free winds of 
heaven, the broad water, the woods, the flowers, the birds, the 
wild animals, whom I welcome as my fellows. True-heart, my 
dog, shall be my companion — much more trustworthy than a 
human friend. {Calls his dog to him and pats it on the head, then 
goes to stirring the fire. Rises after fixing the fire, during which 
time he has been hummifig a song. Looks around him.) Hello ! 
Some one coming ; and were it Old Nick in person, I should 
be glad to see him and shake his clawed hand. {Boat comes on 
R.) Well, always let the other man speak first. This boom- 
erang of a boat has a shape in it, I perceive. Guess I'll speak 
first. [Boat comes to C. and stops C.) . Well, old gentleman, 
where did you come from ? 

Fog. Nowhere. 

Arch. And where are you going .^ 

Fog. Back there. 

7 



8 SHADOW CASTLE. ^ 

Arch. Couldn't you take me with you ? I have been try- 
ing all my life to go nowhere, but never could learn the way. 
I always found myself some where. 

Fog. Nonsense. Who are you ? 

Arch. Well, I don't exactly know. Once I was supposed 
to be Archie Saunders of Fifth avenue. New York City ; but 
the wilderness has taken all the conceit of high-toned society 
out of me. So I suppose I am nobody now. Stay to supper 
and we will discuss the question. Will you ? It's long since 
I've had an argument with flesh and blood. You are flesh and 
blood, I suppose, aren't you ? 

Fog. Nonsense, young man. How came you here ? By 
water ? 

Arch. No ; by land. 

Fog. Along shore ? 

Arch. No ; through the woods. 

Fog. Nobody ever comes through the woods. 

Arch. I'll agree to that. But you know I am somebody. 

Fog. Do you mean that you have come across from Lake 
Superior on foot ? 

Arch. Yes, I landed on the shore of Lake Superior a 
month or two ago, and I struck inland the same day ; where I 
am now I neither know nor want to know, for I am trying to 
get away from the world, from society and all its shams, and 
from the remains of a broken heart. 

Fog. {Scowling.) Very well, very well ; but that's all non- 
sense. You have no boat, what are you going to do now ? 

Arch. Oh, I'm going somewhere, I suppose. 

Fog. Humph ! Do you start to-morrow ? 

Arch. Probably ; by that time I will be ready to move on. 

Fog. Just so. I will stay to supper, I think. {Comes for- 
ward and sits by the fire, war fating his hands and feet.) 

Arch. Very well ; perhaps you will tell me who you are ? 

Fog. Fog ; Amos Fog ; fisherman and hunter among the 
islands farther south. 



SHADOW CASTLE. g 

Arch. How long have you lived here ? 

Fog. About fifteen years. I saw your fire and came in 
shore to see what it meant ; for in fifteen years no one has ever 
camped here before. 

Arch. I suppose not. And so you have been here all that 
time, then ? 

Fog. Off and on ; off and on ; I live a wandering life. 
(Archie Ji//s a pipe for Fog and they smoke ^ wJiile Archie /r<f- 
pares supper.) But stranger, s'pose you tell me about yourself. 
I s'pose you're up here prospect in'? 

Arch. No, can't say that I am. I have no intention of 
settling here. I am merely idling away a summer in the wilder- 
ness, and will soon go back to civilization, never to return, at 
least not this way. I may go across the plains next year, or 
perhaps south. Here, try this flask. [Frodiiees flask^ which 
Fog drinks froin^ and then smacks his lips.) 

Fog. Ah, that's good. It goes right to the inner man. I 
don't see how you live, stranger. You can't surely carry much 
along with you ? 

Arch. Live ? I live like a prince. See these tin cases ; I 
carry in them a little tea, and even a few lumps of white sugar 
as a special treat to put into my tea on a wet night. 

Fog. Where did you buy that sugar? 

Arch. I brought it from below. For literature, I carry 
Shakspeare's sonnets ; the cream of the whole world's litera- 
ture ; and then I have this painting, one I painted. Is she 
not as beautiful as a dream ? 

Fog. I don't know much about dreams ; but isn't she a trifle 
heavy in build to be a dream ? Th-ey dress like that now, I 
s'pose ; flowered gowns and gold chains around the waist, eh ? 

Arch. Humph ! I don't know how they dress, nor don't 
care, for I'm trying to forget all about womankind. 

Fog. Oh ! well don't get riled up about it, stranger. I 
guess I'll just camp down with you. You see it is late, and 
your fire's all made up and ever3^thing's all comfortable. Be- 



10 SHADOW CASTLE. 

sides, I have a long row before me to-morrow, as I'm on my 
way to the Beavers. 

Arch. Ah, they're very intelhgent animals, I'm told. 

Fog. Why, they're islands, boy. Big and Little Beaver. 
What do you know, if you don't know about the Beavers ? 

Arch. Well, I know about man. I flatter I know the hu- 
man animal well ; and he is a miserable beast. {Asi(/e.) And 
you're no exception to the rule, I see. 

Fog, Is he ? Who'd have thought it. Well, good-night. 
Don't trouble yourself if you hear me stirring in the night. I 
am often mighty restless. {Goes into the tent and rolls himself 
in blanket. Lies down.) 

Arch. Well, he does not lack for assurance, certainly ; but 
never mind, he's welcome. Simple-minded old fellow ; he has 
lived around here all his life, apparently. Think of the terri- 
ble infliction that would be to a man of my taste — to see no 
society, nor to taste any of the delights of high life. But — 
bah ! society ! out on it ! I am sick of it all ! Have lived a 
round of gayety and folly, only at last to be caught in the glit- 
tering network of love — only to have my heart broken at last. 

Alas, what sighs from our boding hearts 
The infinite skies have borne away. 

(sighs.) But as I said before, I shall retire, and woo sweet 
sleep. [Goes into the tent. Stage grows dark. Yoo comes out 
of tent cautiously and looks back to see that Archie is 7iot stirring.) 
Fog. He's sound enough, now. I'd best make off with 
what booty I can before he wakens. [Proceeds to rifle the stores 
of Archie ; takes the tin cans containing the sugar and tea.) 
Sugar, that'.s what Flossy likes ; it'll do me good to see her 
tiny teeth nibbling at them big lumps. Here's the book, too; 
that has them what-you-call-'ems in it. Why, it's poetry. Now 
that's just what Flossy likes. I'll take that, too. And here's 
the beautiful picter of the lady he showed me. I'll take that 
too, and show Flossy a rale live oil painting. Aha ! he's a 



SHADOW CASTLE. II 

waking up. I must be off. {Runs off L. a?id jiwips i?ifo his 
boat, which he paddies off L.) 

Arch. {^Awakens and comes oiLt of his tent. Looks around^ 
The rascal's gone. So ? a thief in the night. I might have 
known better than to entertain such a scaly specimen as he. 
But the old man was unarmed and he looked like such a sim- 
ple-minded, harmless old fellow. Well, there's no chance of 
overtaking him now. He's out on the water far enough. Let's 
see what he has taken. {^Examines his stores?) All my tobacco 
and whisky, I'll wager. No ; nothing is touched except the 
sugar lumps, the book, and the picture of my darling Francesca. 
I'll find that ancient mariner, if I have to circumnavigate the 
entire globe. {Close with flats in I.) 

Front Scene in One — Wood or House Scene. (Enter 
from L. Peter the Parson, a small, slender man with smooth 
face, dressed in shabby black garments of clerical cut, and a thin 

cloak which he is drawing around him closely ; he comes on 

shivering. 

Peter. Oh, it is miserable cold this autumn. But I have 
no money to spare for clothing, or even for a fire. I must 
bear it the best I can. 

Jason. (Enter from R. laughing 7ioisily, Jason Jarvis, a 
tall, bearded miner, very coarsely clad?) Hello, boys, here's 
Peter the Parson. {Calls off R.) Say, Peter, come in and 
have a drop, won't ye? So? You won't, eh ^ It might fatten you 
up a little if you'd pay more attention to such things. (Parson 
passes by him and exits R.) Humph, he don't even speak. I'll 
wake him up. {Starts after Peter i?. As he is about to exit, 
enter Mrs. IAki^o^y. and confronts him?) 

Mrs. M. Let him alone. Bad cess to ye, Jason. He's 
going to have his preachin' all to himself, as usual, I s'pose, 
for no one ever goes to hear him. 

Jason. Let him alone, is it? No, I'll go and teach him a 
lesson, to speak to a gentleman when he's spoken to. {Ex- 
it R.) 



12 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Mrs. M. And so the likes of him calls himself a gintleman. 
Why, the parson is ten toimes the gintleman, aven if he can't 
whip Jason. Ah, here comes the parson. Come this way, Mr. 
Parson, and he shan't harrum ye. 

Enter Peter R. crosses over L. of Mrs. Malone. 

Peter. That man is surely very ungodly ; and he is all the 
more to be feared for he is evidently intoxicated. 

Mrs. M. Sure ye don t know how to manage the brute. 
Lave that to me. I know how to manage me ould man whin- 
ever he gits half-seas over. Ye only want the Howly Virgin 
now, to be all right, yer Riverence, wid these miners. 

Peter. All honor and affection are no doubt due to the 
Holy Mary; but my church does not, at present, allow her 
claim to — to adoration. 

Mrs. M. Well, now why don't you jest come right out now 
and be a rale Catholic t The Episcopal Church is next door 
to it, and it's aisy to see ye ain't happy in yer moind. If ye 
was a rale praste now, with the coat and all, 'stead of being a 
make-believe, the byes 'd respect you more, and they wouldn't 
notice yer soize so much. Or ye moight go back to the city, 
and loikely enough ye'd foind aisy work there that'd suit you. 

Peter. I like hard work, Mrs. Malone. 

Mrs. M. But ye aint fit for it, sor. You'll niver get on 
here if you stay till the judgment day. Why, ye aint got ten 
people all told in yer chapel, and ye hev been here a year 
already, come Christmas. And ye don't take any keer of your- 
self, goin' around shiverin' and not atin' enough to kape a 
chicken alive. Why, how you're shiverin' now. Here, take 
somethin' to warm ye up. {^Produces a flask from her pocket 
which she gives him.) 

Peter. [Refusing it.) No, no, no. I am unalterably op- 
posed to it. 

Mrs. M. Well, I reckon it's good for the insides. 

Peter. You are very kind ; but still I must refuse. 



SHADOW CASTLE. I3 

Mrs. M. Well, then, ye'U come home wid me, and I'll give 
ye a bit of a sup for your stomach's sake. Ye surely will not 
refuse to ate ? 

Peter. I am not hungry, madam. You are so kind to me 
will you not tell me more about yourself ? I have seen you 
often, for you come to my church. 

Mrs. M. Yes, I live near by ; and my man is a miner over 
the hill. 

Peter. You have children? 

Mrs, M. Not a brat. Glad of it, too. 

Peter. You must be lonely then ? 

Mrs. M. Oh, yes, I'm lonely enough, but I can't help that. 
I lead a miserable life enough. You see I aint what I useder 
be. I come of good stock in ould Ireland. I was one of the 
O'Scullys of County Tipperary, and they came from O'Brien, 
the king of Cashel and Munster ; ye see I have ryal blood in 
me vanes, as red as a blood beet. Me father he kept a sthore 
in Tipperary until I fell in love wid Fergus Malone, and run 
off wid him to Americay. And Fergus he toorned out good 
for nothin' to work ; and he didn't do nothin' but paint me all 
the toime. 

Peter. Is yer husband an artist ? 

Mrs. M. No, he is a miner — at prisent. But he used to 
like to paint me in all sort of ways ; for he could jest daub to 
beat the divil, savin' yer Riverence. He always said my face 
was rale 'rental. 

Peter. Oriental, I suppose you mean. 

Mrs. M. Yis, that's it. You should jest see the picters of me 
he painted — There's me as the '' Queen of Sheba," as " Judy," 
as '' Ruth," as '^ Esther," as " Poco-hunt-us," as " Goddessaliber- 
ty," as " Sunset," and as '' October " eight times. " Sunset " is 
the one as has red paint behind it like clouds. 

Peter. Did your husband make anything out of his 
pictures ? 

Mrs. M. No, that's what he didn't. When we first run 



14 SHADOW CASTLE. 

away and came to this country, he went to Shecagy to sell his 
picters ; he said he was a goin' to buy me a new silk dress and 
some earrings, and after that a farm. But pretty soon he 
come home in a lake scow widout a penny in his pocket, and 
bringin' all the picters back wid him. Well, he tried every 
kind of thrade after that, and finally he come way out here to 
the Beaver settlement and settled down as a miner. (Com- 
niences to groan and weep?) 

Peter. Groaning probably relieves you. 

Mrs. M. Yes, yer Riverence, it's kinder company when 
I'm all alone ; but ye see it's hard to have to come down to 
livin' in this out of the way place when I was onct called the 
prettiest gal in all Tipperary. Well, sir, ye may not believe it, 
but I had open-work stockings and feathers in my winter bon- 
nets before I was married. But you come home wid me, and 
take a bite, Parson, and I'll show ye all thim picters until ye 
can't rest. (Exit with Parson R. Pull off and disclose?) 

ScENft Third. (Stage dark. Pull off fiats and disclose an 
open sea, set rocks across in 2, behind which baize is waved 
to represent waves. Boat, set to luork in grooves, at 2, behind set 
rocks. Boat is at L. ready to be drawn on. A s?nall house is 
partly shown P. 4. £., mounted high on piles as i/ abo7>e lake out 
of reach of the waves. A small balcony to be used, large and 
strong e?iough to hold two or three persons, extends out frofn 
the door of the house, with a neat railing aroimd balcojiy. Door 
of the house opefis on the balcony. Window of house also shows 
with small white curtain, and fiowers on the ivindoiv sill, as also 
on the balcony railitig. A rope ladder hangs from the edge of 
the balcojiy doiun to the water. Archie appears coming on 
in boat at L.ji E. 

Archie. I have undertaken this voyage from a pure in- 
born sense of justice. My book of sonnets and my Fran- 
cesca's picture, indeed ! Would nothing else content him ? 
He seems to be a very aesthetic rogue ; but I'll find him, if I 



SHADOW CASTLE. 15 

perish in the attempt. Well, I must unlimber myself and get 
out of this fog, or I shall be lost, [Paddling vigorously ; stops 
and looks up.) How fast it is coming in. [Looks around and 
discovers the house at R. 4.) Thank heaven I am safe. I can 
reach that house and find a safe harbor. [Paddles, and the boat 
goes off R. 2 E. Flossy comes out of the house as the boat goes 
off, and begins to sing, at the same tiine attending to the flowers on 
the balcony. While she is thus engaged the boat is arranged to 
come on at R. 4 -£"., directly at the foot of the house beloiv the bal- 
cony. Archie paddles boat on, and then stops to look up at the 
balcony. Starts at beholding Flossy.) What does all this 
mean ? A fairy, as Fm alive. (Flossy seats herself in a chair. 
Produces a book from her pocket and goes to reading, at the safne 
time nibbling at some lumps of white sugar which she also takes 
from her pocket. Archie looks again.) No, it can't be a fairy, 
for she is eating, so she must be human. She is eating sugar. 
Eating my sugar and reading my sonnets. Sugaration ! that's 
cool. Well, at all events, my trip has not been in vain. 
(Flossy stops reading, turns a page, and looks tip. As she does 
so she catches sight of Archie and leans over the balcony, her longy 
flossy hair floating out on the breeze. ) 

Flossy. {Calls out to yVrchie beloiv.) Oh, George ; is that 
you ? 

Arch. No, it isn't George, it's Archie. But who are you? 

Flos. My name is " Silver Hair," as George calls me, and 
" Flossy," as father calls me. I see you aint George. Now, 
who are you, any way ? 

Arch. A hungry, tired man, who would like to come aboard 
and rest awhile. 

Flos. Aboard ? Why, this is not a boat. 

Arch. What is it then ? 

Flos. A castle — Shadow Castle. 

Arch. Ahem ! And you reside here ? 

Flos. Of course ; where else should I reside ? Is it not a 
beautiful place ? 



l6 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. I could tell better if I was up there. 

Flos. Well, come up, then. 

Arch. How ? 

Flos. Don't you see the ladder ? 

Arch. Ah, yes ; Jacob's Ladder, I suppose. George comes 
up this way, I suppose ? 

Flos. He does not, but I wish he would. 

Arch. Undoubtedly. But tell me, did you ever hear about 
Jacob's Ladder ? 

Flos. No ; I never heard about it. Come up and tell me 
about it. 

Arch. You surely have read about it in the Bible? 

Flos. The Bible ? What is the Bible ? 

Arch. [Aside.) Is it possible she don't know what the 
Bible is? Surely this is a new kind of a heathen — and a very 
pretty one, too. [Aloud.) The Bible is a book. 

Flos. Oh, it's a book, is it ? I like books. I have read 
five ; and now I've got a new one. 

Arch. Ahem! Yes; and how do you like the new one? 
( Comes up the ladder., /taving tied his boat to one of the piles which 
support the house. He climbs over the balcony and sits on the rail- 
ing. Takes the book in Ms hands. Aside.) It is the identical 
Shakspere. But the little witch is welcome to it, any way. 
(Aloud.) You have not answered my question. How do you — 

Flos. How do I like the book ? I do not understand it at 
all. Perhaps you can explain it to me. 

Arch. (Smiling.) I think I can. That is, if you wish to 
learn. 

Flos. Is it hard to learn ? 

Arch. That depends on the scholar. (Jeannette appears 
at the door.) Ah, this is another one of the family, eh ? 

Flos. Yes, this is Jeannette, my nurse. (Aside to Jean- 
nette.) He came in a boat, Jeannette ; and he says he is tired 
and hungry ; so we had best have supper now, without waiting 
for father. As soon as the sun goes down it will be quite damp; 



SHADOW CASTLE. I 7 

perhaps you had best build a small fire. Just a few shavings 
and one little stick, Jeannette. i^Exit Jen. at door.) While 
Jeannette is getting supper I will show you my flowers and 
pets. 

Arch. By all means. Have you anything in the way of 
mermaidens ? 

Flos. The idea ! No, mermaidens dwell in the water ; they 
can't live in houses as we can. Did you not know that ? I 
have seen them on moonlight nights far out at sea, combing 
their hair ; and so has Jeannette, and so has Aunt Shadow. 

Arch. Aunt Shadow? Another member of the family? 
(Aside.) Perhaps a ghost. 

Flos. Yes ; she's a member of our family, only she aint 
here any more. She went away one night when I was asleep. 
I do not know why it is, but if people go away from here in 
the night they never come back. Will you do so? 

Arch. No ; when I go away, I will take you with me. 
(Zaug/mig.) 

Flos. Will you ? very well ; and father can go too, and 
Jeannette ? 

Arch. (Aside.) She really takes me in earnest — the inno- 
cent little puss. (Aloud.) Well, I don't know about them; 
but we wont talk about it just yet. 

Flos. Well, I really don't care to leave here, for I am so 
happy. I wouldn't live on the shore, would you ? 

Arch. Oh, certainly not. But you do not find all these 
flowers on the shore, do you ? 

Flos. No ; father found them. He finds everything for 
me. He has something in his boat almost every night for me. 
Oh, I hope he will come soon, and I know he will be so glad 
to see you. 

Arch. Will he ? (Aside.) I wish I was sure of that. 
(Aloud.) Has he any men with him ? 

Flos. Oh, no ; we live here all alone — father, Jeannette, 
and I. 

2 



l8 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. But you were expecting somebody you called 
George. 

Flos. Yes ; I have been expecting George for more than 
two weeks. Every night I watch for him ; but he does not 
come. Perhaps he and Aunt Shadow will come together ; do 
you think they will ? 

Arch. Oh, certainly. [Aside.) Anything to please the 
little witch. 

Flos. Oh, I'm so glad, so glad ! for father and Jeannette 
will never say so. I think I shall like you. Say, what shall I 
call you ? 

Arch. Well, you may call me Archie. 

Flos. Would you like some lumps of sugar ? 

Arch. No, thank you, you can keep them. 

Flos. Father brought them to me. Brown sugar we have 
always ; but white, not always, and 1 like it so much. Don't 
you ? 

Arch. No, I care nothing for it. (Flossy takes up a bit of 
seiving from basket at her side and commences to sew.) 

Arch. So you can sew ? 

Flos. Of course I can. Aunt Shadow taught me. There 
is no need to do it, for I have so many dresses, silks and 
satins, too; but I like to sew. 

Arch. Yes, and I think I heard you singing as I came up 
the lake. Will you not sing for me ? {She begins singing, and 
continues until boat comes on at L. 2 E.) 

Flos. Ah, there comes father. I hear the oars of his boat. 
Yes, I see him. [She leans over the balcony^ 

Arch. (Aside.) I may as well face the old rogue at once. 

Fog. (Coming on Z.) Ah, she is there. I can see her 
plainly. (Cai/ing.) Are you there, darling, well and safe? 

Flos. Yes, father. 

Fog. (Aside.) Thet«; is some one with her, and it is not 
Jeannette. But who can it be ? (He rows ojf R. 2 E., and re- 
appears at R. \ E., luhere he hitches his boat and climbs the rope 
ladder?) 



SHADOW CASTLE. 1 9 

Flos. {^Leaning over balcony.) Yes, father, I am here, and 
so glad to see you. (^Her father s head appears above the bal- 
cony on ladder.) We have a visitor, father dear ; are you not 
glad to see him ? 

Fog. (Amos climbs over the balcony and confronts Archie.) 
What are you aoing here ? 

Arch. Looking for my property. {Aside to Fog.) 

Fog. [Aside.) Take it, and begone. 

Arch. [Aside.) I will — to-morrow. 

Flos. His name is Archie, father ; and we must keep him 
with us. 

Fog. Yes, dear ; no doubt, as long as he wishes to stay- 
But perhaps he has a home and friends waiting for him. 

Flos. What have you brought to-night for me, father ? 

Fog. Nothing, child ; that is — nothing of consequence. 
But it is growing late. Run off to your nest. 

Flos. Oh, no, papa. You have had no supper, nor — 

Fog. I am not hungry. Go, child, go ; do not worry me. 

Flos. Worry you, father ? never. (Embraces him and then 
kisses him.) Well, I will go straight to my room now. Good- 
night — Archie. 

Arch. Good-night. {Exit Flossy at door. Aside.) Now 
for us two. 

Fog. {Drawing up his chair confidentially.) You see how 
it is ; that child is the darling of my life, and I could not resist 
taking those things for her from you ; she has so few books 
and she likes those little lumps of sugar — just as any child 
likes candy. It's all right, aint it ? 

Arch. Oh, certainly, it's all right about them ; she is wel- 
come to them. But what about the picture of my lady love 
that you stole ? 

Fog. Sh-sh-sh ! not so loud. I would not have her know 
for the world that I stole them. It was a father's foolish pride 
to take that picter. I knew that Flossy was far prettier than 
it, but I wanted to see the two side by side. My Flossy is 
prettier — now isn't she ? 



^6 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. I do not think so. 

Fog. Don't you, though ? Well, I suppose it is 'cause I am 
foolish about Flossy ; but you see she is all the world to me. 
We live here all alone. My sister brought her up. 
Arch. You mean Aunt Shadow, that went away ? 
Fog. Yes ; she was my sister, and — and — she went away 
last year. Have a pipe, stranger ? 

Arch. I should think you would find it hard work to live 
here. 

Fog. I do ; but a poor man can't choose. I hunt and fish, 
and get out a few furs sometimes. I traffic with the Beaver 
Island people now and then. I bought all my furniture in that 
way. You wouldn't hardly think it, but they did have a 
great many nice things down to Beaver. 

Arch. It looks to me like steamboat furniture. 
Fog. That is it; it is. A steamer went to pieces down 
there, and they saved almost all her furniture and fixings- 
They are very good sailors. 
Arch. Wreckers, perhajDS. 

Fog. Well, I would not like to say that. You know we do 
have terrible storms in these waters ; and then, there is the 
fog ; this part of Lake Michigan is foggy half the time. 
Twelve hours out of the twenty-four the gray mist lies on the 
water here and outside, shifting slowly backward and forward 
like a waving curtain. 

Arch. Yes, I had an experience of the fog. I came near 
being lost in it. But tell me more about your little girl. She 
tells me she has a great many dresses — silks and fine things. 
How did you get them for her ? 

Fog. Oh, those silks came from the steamer too — the trunks, 
you know. But I have never told Flossy. She might ask 
where were the people they belonged to, and I should have to 
tell her they were drowned ; and then the little gal wouldn't 
feel like wearing them any more. 

Arch. I do not like the idea of dressing in dead men's 



SHADOW CASTLE. 21 

clothes. It does not seem right that such a bright, happy- 
creature as she should do so. 

Fog. Neither do I like the idee. But how could we help 
their drowning, when we were not there to save them? Be- 
sides, those dresses were going for a song after the wreck, down 
at Beaver. The child loves pooty things ; so what else could 
I do but buy 'em for her ? You wont tell her, will you, stran- 
ger ? I may have done wrong in the matter ; but it would kill 
me to have the child lose faith in me. You wont tell her 
about it, eh ? 

Arch. No, I will not. Why should I ? 

Fog. Sure enough ; why should you ? That's right. 
Thankee. Take a glass of hot punch, will you, stranger ? I'll 
get it ready in no time. [Exits into house.) 

Arch. [Aside. Sfnoking.) What does all this mean ? 
There is some mystery here. I like it not. What motive can 
this old chap have in keeping the little fairy cooped up in 
this old hulk", all her life, away from the world, away from 
society ; but, pshaw ! society would spoil her as it has spoiled 
me. Perhaps he wishes to keep her from being tarnished by 
rough contact with the world. Well, if she were mine I could 
not want her to be less innocent and unsophisticated than she is. 
She is simplicity, and innocence, and childishness personified. 
(Enter Fog with a glass of punch steaming hot, which Archie 
drinks slowly while conversing.) Are you going to keep the 
girl shut up here forever ? 

Fog. No, that's just it. No, I am not. But you see she 
has been but a child all this time — nothing but a child. My 
sister has taught her well. We have done the best we could 
by her. But as soon as I have a little more money — just a 
little more — I intend to move to one of the towns down the 
lake and have a small house and everything comfortable. I 
have planned it all out. I shall have — [Aside.) Hanged if he 
aint falling asleep. It's taking effect. I'll soon have him out 
of the way. 



22 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. ( Waking out of a doze ) I think T had best retire, as 
I feel weary. 

Fog. Certainly, but as I was saying — 

Arch, Never mind ; I can hear the rest to-morrow. 

Fog. Very well, so you are going to-morrow ? I am sorry 
you go so soon ; I'd like to have you stay a few days. I am 
going over to-morrow to the shore where I first met you, to 
tend to some traps. Perhaps you'd like to go along and enjoy 
a little hunting? 

Arch. No, I have had too much of that already. I should 
like to find a steamer or vessel going to Chicago. 

Fog. Nothing easier. I'll take you down to the Islands 
to-morrow, if the wind is fair, and you can catch a vessel there. 
Would you like to look round the castle ? I am going to draw 
the ladders up. No ? Well then, let me show you your room. 
This way, sir. [They exit into house. Fog re-enters from house 
and sits smoki?ig.) He must not stay here another day. How in 
the mischief did he come here ? It must have been by acci- 
dent. (A brief silence?) And he's seen my Flossy, too. If he 
stays here another day he would be for running away with her; 
and what could I do without Flossy. He must not stay here. 
I must get rid of him to-night. I can do it easily. That punch 
was drugged, and he is sound asleep by this time. I'll let him 
down in a boat, and I'll row him over to Beaver before he 
wakes up ; and then I'll leave him on shore, and when he 
wakes up and comes to his senses he wont know whar he is. 
That's what I'll do. (^Exit into the house. Conies out bearing 
AKQm^ in his arms fast asleep. Puts a rope under Archie's 
arms, then lets him down slowly from the balcony by the rope until 
Archie is safely deposited in boat below. He then prepares the 
rope ladder to descend to boat; but as he is about to descend ladder ^ 
the boat drifts off.) Good God ! it has broken loose and is 
drifting out into an open sea, and in the thickest fog I ever 
saw. [Curtain.) 



SHADOW CASTLE. 23 

ACT II. 

Vieia of an open sea, same as last act. Scene, set rocks in 
f?'ont, but no house in sight. Stage very dark. Storm, 
thmider and lightning. Baize ivaned up and doivn so as to 
show the lake in violent commotion. Boat containing Archie 
is moved on L. 2, with Archie /// // asleep. He wakens slowly 
as if dreaming. 

Arch. Poor old man ! How he must have worked, and 
stolen, and starved to keep her safe and warm in this far away 
nest of his, hidden in the fogs. Well, I wont betray the old fel- 
low ; but I'll go to-morrow. Yes, I'll go to-morrow ! [Starts 
up, looks around wildly.) What does this all mean ? Where 
am I ? What does it all mean ? I went to sleep in the old 
castle, and I waken to find myself at sea in an open boat. My 
God ! but this is some treachery ! Could he be so heartless as 
to set me adrift to perish ? Well, I must save myself, some- 
how. I must paddle out of this fog, and then perhaps I can 
see land somewhere. We'll see who will conquer, Fate or I. 
[Begins to paddle vigorously. His oar strikes bank at R. 2 ^., 
and he feels for the bank with oar.) Yes, it is land ! land ! I 
an saved at last ! (Carefully feels his way, and then alights on 
the bank after securing his boat to bank. While he is mooritig 
the boat, Amos Fog has climbed up at R. 4 E., and has tied a 
large torch high in the branches of a tree so that it illuminates the 
water, and lights up the scene. Archie sees the torch?) What 
can that mean ? It was not there a moment ago. Perhaps 
some one has put it there as a guide for me. They must have 
seen my little boat out at sea, and placed that torch in the tree 
to show me which way the land lay. Thank God for that. 
[Looks around.) Strange. The harbor must be on the other 
side. [Looks out to sea, L.) Great God I there is a vessel 
heading this way. It is coming toward the reef. It will go 
to pieces on the rocks, but I am helpless, and I cannot aid the 
poor wretches. There, I hear a crash ! It has gone aground 
and it will soon go to pieces. [Looks up at light.) The light ! 



24 SHADOW CASTLE. 

it is a lure ! a false light ! I must take it down. (Starts to go 
off R., when he is roughly seized by Amos Fog, who grasps him 
by the throat. They struggle.) 

Fog. I know you — rascal. You have come back to life, 
have you ? I thought I was rid of you forever. But FU make 
short work of you now. ( Throws Archie down on his knees 
and strangles him. Archie atte^npts to cry out.) No use to cry 
out. Better say your prayers, youngster, and say 'em quick. 
(Archie reaches round to his hind pocket and gets revolver. Fog 
tries to grasp his arm, but Archie struggles, and in the scuffle the 
revolver goes off and Fog falls, groaning with pain.) Oh, I am 
wounded. Stop ; do not kill me. 

Arch. Kill you ? you tried to kill me, wretch. It was you 
who set that lure. 
Fog. Yes. 

Arch. Well, can anything be done for those men on board? 
Answer, or FU end your miserable life at once. I don't know 
why I did not kill you outright, you miserable coward. 

Fog. Nothing can be done now. It's too late. I know 
every inch of the reef and shore. Besides, it was only a small 
schooner. There's not more'n six on board. 

Arch. Silence. Each man of the six is worth a hundred 
such as you. 

Fog. That may be, for my life aint worth much now, sence 
you shot me. Stranger, can't you do something for me, or I 
shall bleed to death. Don't mind them. They're about gone 
now. The water is deadly cold out thar. By daylight the 
things will be coming ashore. You'll see to 'em for me, wont 
you. 

Arch. See to them ? I'll see to nothing, murderer. 
Fog. Murderer ? and if I die, what diXt you but a murderer? 
Arch. An avenger. 

Fog. Flossy would die, too ; there is but little left in the 
house and she'd starve soon. It was for her sake that I come 
out here to-night. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 25 

Arch. Well, I will take her away ; not for your sake but 
for her own. 

Fog. But how could you find her? 

Arch. As soon as it is daylight 1 can sail over. 

Fog. Over ? Over where ? That is it, you do not know. 
Stranger, you might row and sail about here for days, and I'll 
warrant you'd never find my castle. It's hidden away in a 
nest of reeds, trust me for that. The way to it lies through 
a perfect tangle of channels, and islands, and marshes ; and 
the fog covers it about half of the time. The only approach 
to it is through a channel masked by a movable bed of sedge 
which I contrived and which turns you back into the marsh by 
another way. So you might float around for days and never 
find the castle. 

Arch. I found it once. 

Fog. That was because you came from the north shore, 
which aint guarded, because no one ever comes from that way. 
You are miles away from there now. 

Arch. Well, I shall find it again, as I found it before, 
never fear. Tell me the truth, old man, has the girl no boat ? 

Fog. No. 

Arch. Will any one go to rescue her? Does any one 
know of the castle ? 

Fog. Not a human being on this earth beside myself. 

Arch. Where are Aunt Shadow and George that she told 
me about ? 

Fog. Didn't you guess that, stranger? Aunt Shadow is 
dead ; and the boy I sent away because he was so foolish as 
to fall in love with Flossy. My child knows nothing of death. 
I only told her that her aunt had gone away, and I never could 
bear to undeceive her. 

Arch. But is there no way for her to cross the islands to 
the mainland ? 

Fog. No ; there is a circle of deep water all around the 
castle outside. 



26 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. I see then, that there is nothing to do but to save 
your justly forfeited Hfe. It would not be worth the saving, 
if it were not for the child. i^Stoops oz'er Amo?> a/id attends to 
his wounds.) Tell me v/hy you placed all my property in the 
boat with me when you set me adrift ? As you are a thief and 
a robber I should have thought you would have kept them. 

Fog. I did not wish to harm you ; only to get rid of you. 
You had provisions, and your chances were as good as ever if 
you ever came to shore. 

Arch. But I might have found my way back to the castle ? 

Fog. Once outside you could never have done that 

Arch. I could have gone back along shore ? 

Fog. No ; there are miles and miles of swamps where the 
streams come down. But tell me, do you sec anything coming 
ashore ? 

Arch. No ; the poor men's bodies will wash ashore, no 
doubt. 

Fog. No ; they don't often come in here ; and they're more 
than likely to drift out to sea. 

Arch. Miserable man. So this is not the first time you 
have wrecked a vessel ? 

Fog. Only four times — only four times, in fifteen long 
years. And then only because my Plossy was close to starva- 
tion. The steamer wa^ honestly wrecked — the " Anchor " of 
the Buffalo line — and she did not go to pieces for two days ; 
and what I gathered from her lasted me a long time, besides 
furnishing the castle. It was a godsend to me — that steamer, 
stranger. 

Arch. Yes, no doubt ; but you are none the less a 
murderer. 

Fog. Do not judge me too harshly, boy. I work, I slave, 
I go hungry and cold to keep her happy and warm. But there 
are times when everything fails, and starvation is at the door. 
But she never knows it ; none of 'em ever knows it, for I keep 
the keys and tell 'era little stories just to please 'em. But as 



SHADOW CASTLE. 27 

Go J is my judgc\ the wolf has often been at my door, and is 
there now unless something washes ashore. 

Arch. Why do you not fish and hunt for her food ? 

Fog. Fish and hunt ? I do, stranger ; but my darling is 
not accustomed to coarse food ; her delicate life must be care- 
fully nourished. Oh, iv;// do not know. You do not know all. 
I am growing old, and my e3^es and hands are not what they 
were once ; that very night when I came home and found you 
there, I had just lost overboard my last supplies which I had 
stored so long for her sake. If I could walk now, I would 
show you my cellar and storehouse in the woods. But I can't 
walk. ]\Iebbe Fll never walk again, for this wound is a very 
dangerous one, and may lame me for life. 

Arch. Never mind that now. You surely could have 
labored honestly, and could have supported your child in that 
way. 

Fog. Labor ? Ah, how I have labored for her. I have 
felt my muscles crack ; I have dropped like a log from sheer 
weariness. Talk of tortures ! which of them have I not felt 
with the pains and faintness of exposure and hunger racking 
me from head to foot. Have I stopped for snow and ice ? 
Never. I have worked, worked, worked, with the tears of pain 
rolling dowr^ my cheeks, with my body gnawed with hunger. 
Last night when I was shifting my boxes of provisions they 
slipped and fell overboard out of my grasp, just as if they 
knew it — knew all the time that they were the last. So I had 
to come home empty-handed, and I found you there. When I 
sent you adrift I would have taken your supplies for my Flos- 
sy's sake, only I couldn't send you adrift without a chance for 
life. You look at me with scorn. You are thinking of those 
dead men out there — but what are they to my Flossy — rough, 
common fellows. 

Arch. They are better than you are, at all events. Well, 
I am going to try to save them, if I can. 

Fog. You are not going ? You are not going to leave me 



28 SHADOW CASTLE. 

to die ? Ah, well, that is all I can expect from you. The sun 
will come and burn me, thirst will come and madden me ; this 
wound will torture me, and all is no more than I deserve. 
But Flossy ! if I die she dies. Come back. If you forsake 
me, you forsake her. You cannot reach her alone, and 1 — 
only I — can guide you to her. Oh, save me for her sake. 
Oh, God have pity and soften his heart. {Falls fainting on 
bank. Close in.) 

Scene Second — front scene — wood or water. 

Arch. (Enter Archie R.) It is too late. I cannot save 
them. I tried to reach them in the boat, but could find no 
trace of the wreck, so I came back to the shore. What a 
wretch is this Fog, who could lure them on to death. He de- 
serves a worse death. I do not feel it would be riijht to save 
him. But I must for the sake of the girl. [Slops irresolute.) 
Yes, I will go to him. I am a brute to desert a dying man. 
(Enter from R. Fog, dragging himself on sloiuly and painfully. 
Falls at the entrance R. Akchi'E. ru /is to him.) The man has 
dragged himself thus far in search of me, rather than let his 
child starve. How he must love the little one. Yes, I must 
save her. I will take him, and he shall guide me back to her. 
After that, it would not matter much if he sho^ild die, if it 
would be any expiation for this wholesale crime. [Goes to old 
Fog and lifts him up.) He has dragged himself along until he 
has unloosened the bandages. [He proceeds to bind up the 
mans woujids again, and to restore him to consciousness by apply- 
ing a flask to Fog's lips.) There is blood on him and he has 
left a trail of blood behind him, marking the way he came. 
My God ! if this man dies I shall be his murderer. I shudder 
to think of it — of the life-long remorse and misery that it 
would cause me. 

Fog. [Reviving, looks up.) Thank God, I have found you. 
Take me home, sir. Take me home. But stop ! First look 
and see if anything has come ashore. If there is nothing, my 
darling will starve, for I am unable to help her. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 2() 

Arch. {Looks off R.) Yes, there are several casks and a 
box stranded in the shallow water. But I cannot touch them. 
/ am not a wrecker. 

Fog. You are not a wrecker ? Yes, and you can thank 
God for that. But if you let my darling starve, do you not 
think you would be worse than a wrecker ? 

Arch. Never mind that; I have money. I can purchase 
for her as many dainties as she may wish. She shall be well 
treated, never fear. {Lifts Fog iip in his amis.) But shall we 
see the castle to-night ? 

Fog. We may be there to-night if the wind does not shift. 
Arch. Have we then so far to go ? Why, I came across in 
a night. 

Fog. Add a day to the night and you have it. I let you 
down at night and you drifted away ; but the drug held you 
in its strong hold for a long day^ and you never knew what 
happened to you. Then the storm came up and I came over 
here to set the light. It was a chance that I did not count on 
when your boat floated this way and landed you ; and when I 
saw you, I knew I would have to get rid of you, or you would 
discover my plot to wreck the vessel. And — and this is the 
end of it all. 

Arch. Yes, this is the end of all your plotting and schem- 
ing, and it is nearly the end of you. 

Fog. Yes, it may be ; but I want you to promise me — 
promise that you will never betray me to my child. 
Arch. I promise. 
Fog. That is not enough. Swear it. 

Arch. I swear to you as between man and man, that I will 
not betray you. 

Fog. That is enough ! Now let us go on or it will be too 
late. (Archie picks him up and carries him off R. Full off 
and disclose inUrior of the castle.) 



3© SHADOW CASTLE. 

Scene Third. Interior of the castle. A large table C. Bed 

with curtains L. C. at rear, in which Fog is lying, very sick. 

Archie is seated near the table R. reading. 

Fog. I suppose you know what day this is ? 

Arch. No, I have lost all reckonings of time and place. 

Fog. You are worse than I am. I keep a reckoning, 
although I do not show it. To-day is Sunday, but Flossy does 
not know it. All days are alike to her. She does not know 
what the Sabbath means, and she has never heard of the 
Bible. 

Arch. {^Dropping his book.) Yes she has, for I told her. 

Fog. You told her ? {Starting up in bed.) 

Arch. Be quiet or you will disturb those bandages again. 
I only asked her if she had read the book, and she said no. 
That was all. But supposing that I had told her about the 
Bible, would it harm her to know of it ? 

Fog. It would harm her to lose faith in me 

Arch. Thenwhy have you not told her so yourself? 

Fog. I left her to grow up as the flowers grow. Is that 
not enough ? Is she not pure and good ? Yes, a thousand 
times more so than any school or church could make her. 

Arch. And yet you have taught her to read ? 

Fog. Yes. I knew not what might happen. I could not 
expose her, defenceless in a hard world. Religion is all fancy, 
but education is like an armor. I cannot tell what may 
happen. 

Arch. That is very true. You may die, you know. You 
are an old man. 

Fog. Don't talk of death. Let me be in peace while I 
may. {Turns his face to the wall.) 

Arch. Ah, I see, I have touched the old man's conscience. 
Well, I will let him be. Let him think it all over, and perhaps 
he will repent sometime. I must stay here until he recovers. 
Of course I cannot leave them to starve. And if he dies I 
will take them away from here — back to civilization and give 



SHADOW CASri-E. 3 1 

them the benefits of a home and society. Society ? There it 
is aL^ain. How I hate that word. Ihit tlien, this httle pc3.v\ of 
Sliadow Castle surely would shine in society, even if she had 
nothing more to recommend her than her precious innocence. 

1^ N I' I ', R J 1 ■, ANN \'V\"\- 1<: /ro/// 7v\ Approaches him. 

Jeannkttk. lk)n jour, Monsieur. 

Arch. Talk ]Onj;lish to me, please. I hate French. Sit 
down, 1 want to talk to you. It is about l^'lossy. 

Jkan. Yes; isn't she beautiful ? 

Arch. Ahem, no ; not exactly in my eyes. 

Jkan. Why, what more can you want. Monsieur? She has 
pretty eyes and hair. 

Arch. There is no mind in her face ; she has no education. 

Jkan. lUit she is still a child. 

Arch. Yes, that's just it. She will always be a child ; she 
will never mature. 

Ji:an. Oil, yes, she will. She can cook, and sew, and dance, 
and sini;'. 

Arch. Oh yes, without doubt, ('ertaiidy, and amen to all 
that ! Hut she cannot read very well ; she is hardly beyond 
the spelling period, when she repeats "The good boy has a 
top," " The good girl can sew a seam." N(;w what does all 
that amount to ? 

Jkan. You must be patient with her. Teach her yourself. 

Arch, 'I'each her myself. But I — what if I do not like the 
task. You forget that I am a woman-hater ? 

Jean. Suppose you try. It will amuse you. 

Enter fro/ii L. Flossy, /// short dress, hair down. 

Flos. Jeanncttc, I have come to have you braid my hair. 
[Scats herself in front (f J i.a nni'-TTK, 7vho hei^ins braidinij; her 
hair. Arc nil': rci^ards her closely.) 

Arch. {Aside.) She is very beautiful. 1 might paint her 
picture in that attitude, with her hair down. It would make a 
fine companion picture for my portrait of Francesca. Bah ! 



32 SHADOW CASTLE. 

It is sacrilege to speak of those two in the same breath. 
Francesca, with her wealth of golden hair and her rich, oriental 
complexion — and this little blonde — oh, well, they are both 
pretty, but in an opposite way — that's all. [Aloud.) Flossy, 
what would you say if I were to paint your picture ? 

Flos. Ah, do, please do, Archie. That will be so nice. It 
will look so nice beside the other one. (Archie turns /its kick 
and scowls,) Yes, paint it for me. I will dance for you and 
sing now, if you wish. {Begins to dance ^ 

Arch. Stop child ! It is Sunday. 

Fog. [Peering out from the bed.) Let her dance. No mat- 
ter what the day is ; let her dance, I say. It does my old 
heart good to see her dance. (Flossy comes forward and 
dances. Archie does not pay any attention j but Fog and Jean- 
NETTE applaud her.) 

Fog. Now, my pet Flossy, will you not sing something for 
your father ? (She introduces song here, then exits L.) 

Jean. Do you not like her? She is bright, and pretty, 
and — 

Arch. Do not deceive yourself. It is all superficial. 

Jean. Why do you judge the child so harshly? She is a 
poor unfriended girl, and I will defend her against any one ; I 
will put her against a man even, who has the best of Boston 
culture behind him. 

Arch. [Aside.) She means me. But never mind, I can 
fall back on my culture for safety, anynow. Oh well, I shall 
not get sentimental over her. [Aloud.) You can go, Jean- 
nette, as it is getting late. I will* watch by his bedside to- 
night. 

Jean. Thank you. Monsieur, you are very kind. [£xit L. 
bowing?) 

Arch. Now I am all alone, I will smoke my pipe. I call 
it Sweet Silence, and it is fitly named. It is far preferable to 
that chattering French girl. Boston culture, indeed ! What 
does she know of Boston culture, that she must depreciate it 



SHADOW CASTLE. S3 

in that style. Why, I doubt if she has ever seen Boston. 
Well, if the old man should die, as he is very likely to do, if "liis 
wound does not improve, I would take Flossy to Boston with 
me, and put her in a good school ; and I would give her a first- 
class education ; then I would bring her out into society and 
— confound it — there it is about society again. (Gefs up, pokes 
the fire and then looks at the old man in bed.) He's fast asleep, 
and resting easily. I'll go back to my easy chair and think 
about Francesca. {Goes to window and looks out.) What a 
horrible storm is raging without ! The rain comes down in 
sheets. Thank heaven for a good shelter and a warm fire. 
(A knock is heard at the door C. and Archie goes to the door and 
opens it.) 

Enter George Jones. 

A slim young man with pale and pinched features, large eyes, 
and haggard look. He is dressed shabbily, and the water is run- 
7iing from his garments in little streams. He stands shivering, 
looking at Archie /// a suspicious manner. 

Arch. What do you want? 

Geo. Shelter. (Archie draws him in and shuts the door.) 

Arch. Well, this is a pretty time of the night to come for 
shelter. Who are you ? Explain yourself. 

Geo. I'm George. 

Arch. So you are the George I have heard so much about. 
And where did you come from ? 

Geo. Nowhere. 

Arch. Why, fool, you are now next door to nowhere. 
Stop shivering, you horrible image of despair. 

Geo. Please sir, I can't help it. 

Arch. Oh, can't you ? I suppose not. Well, of course I 
shall have to go to work, as I knew I should at the first, and get 
you into dry clothes. Sit down here. (George sits in the easy 
chair in which Archie has been sitting.) Now take off your 
clothes— your outside clothes, I mean. (George takes off his 

3 



34 SHADOW CASTLE. 

coat^ hat ajid shoes, and puts them in a pile?) Now, youngster, 
putTon these. (Archie gives him coat and shoes of his ow??.) 
Well, you begin to look like a man now, with my clothes on. 
(Archie then sits doiun by him and begins s?noking.) 

Geo. I do feel a bit comfortabler. 

Arch. Well, as there's no use calling up the folks, suppose 
you sit here and tell me all about yourself, while you are get- 
ting warm. What's your name ? 

Geo. George Washington Jones ; I'm a poor orphan and 
I've got the chills and fever so bad I had to come back ; but I 
didn't expect to find strangers. 

Arch. So I suppose you want to know how I came here, 
eh? Well, I drifted in ; then the old gentleman met with an 
— an accident, and I've been taking care of him ever since, 
and doctoring him in the hopes of saving his life. From the 
appearance of yourself I should judge that I've saved yours, 
too. 

Geo. Yes, I reckon )^ou have, governor. I was out on the 
mainland hunting, but I didn't have any luck, and I tried to 
cross back to Beaver Islands, but got lost in the fog ; the fog 
kept me prisoner until all my provision was gone, and I was 
half dead with hunger ; I had been drifting for two days with- 
out food when I came across the castle, and knew my bearings. 
So I put in here, hoping to find Flossy and shelter. I only 
want to stay until the storm goes down. I don't want to stay 
any longer, governor, since he druv me away. I wouldn't have 
come back now, only I wanted so bad to see Flossy. 

Arch. So the old man chased you away because you were 
in love with Flossy, eh ? 

Geo. That's just it, governor. 'Cause I loved the gal. 

Arch. You should do nothing of the kind. Don't you 
know that falling in love is all sheer foolishness ? Why, you 
aint a man yet. 

Geo. Yes I am, as much a man as I'll ever be, governor. 

Arch. What do you know of the world now ? You have 



SHADOW CASTLE. 35 

never been away from here any great distance, and know 
nothing of the outside world. 

Geo. Yes, I know that ; but /';;/ satisfied. 

Arch. George, I want to tell you something in confidence. 
I don't expect the old man will get well. In that case Flossy 
would be without a natural protector — 

Geo. Oh, but I'll protect her. 

Arch. Nonsense ! You couldn't protect your grand- 
mother. Now, I am rich, have a good home, move in good 
society ; I intend to take Flossy away with me — in case the 
old man dies, and give her a good education, and the bringing 
up of a lady. 

Geo. Oh, sir, she wouldn't speak to me then. 

Arch. I'll do more, George. You seem to be "a likely 
boy," as the phrase is out here. I'll take you too, and give 
you a good business education, and a start in life. 

Geo. Would I be near Flossy, if I went with you ? 

Arch. Ah, I don't know about that. You see I would not 
have you together much, for she would be away at boarding 
school, and you would be in Boston, in business. 

Geo. Yes, but I couldn't abear that, nohow. I couldn't 
stay away from her no time at all. 

Arch. Is it so bad as that, George ? 

Geo. Yes, 'deed and double ; I'm in earnest, head over 
heels. I say, governor, don't you think she's got a nice little 
face, now aint she ? 

Arch. Really, I'm no judge of her style. I will show you 
the picture of a lovely woman I once knew. {^Produces the 
picture of Francesca.) There are many such faces out in the 
world, and you can see them if you go. 

Geo. {Gazing at the pictitre closely?) It's some queen, I 
reckon. 

Arch. No, no ; it's a beautiful lady, and you shall know 
her ; her very self if you wish. Look at the waves of golden 
hair, her starry eyes, her velvet skin with its rose leaf glow, 



36 SHADOW CASTLE. 

See her head, her bearing, her exquisite royal beauty. Look, 
look with all your eyes, and tell me if jw/, too^ can see anything 
in her to love. 

Geo. It's mighty grand ! it's powerful fine, governor ; but 
arter all Flossy is sweeter nor her. 

Arch. (Aside.) Good Lord ! can it be possible this boy 
has such depraved taste that he can see nothing in 7/ty Fran- 
cesca to compare with /ii's Flossy ? 

Geo. I say, governor, can't Flossy go with me ? 

Arch. I tell you no. You ;;///^/ give her up. She is as 
ignorant as you are ; and being a woman she cannot learn, or 
rather unlearn. 

Geo. But can't women folks learn ? 

Arch. No ; they are an inferior race. By nature they 
must be either slaves or tyrants — tyrants to the weak, slaves to 
the strong. The wise man binds them down ; the chains may 
be gilded, but none the less they are chains. 

Geo. Well then, governor, I'll just take Flossy with me as 
my slave. It '11 do, as long as I have her, somehow. 

Arch. Ha, ha, ha ! JV/iy do you want her, George ? She 
is utterly ignorant. 

Geo. I know it, governor. 

Arch. And she does //<?/ love you. 

Geo. I know that, too ; but the point of the thing is just 
here ; she may not love me, governor, but I love her — love her 
so much that I can't live without her. 

Arch. Nonsense ! boys always think so. Try it for six 
months, George, and you'll find I'm right. I've tried it my- 
self, and escaped. 

Geo. Not for six days, governor, I just couldn't. 

Arch. I'm afraid you're a fool, George. 

Geo. I'm afraid so too, governor. 

Enter Flossy, Z. 
Flos. I heard your voice, George, and so I came down to 



SHADOW CASTLE. 37 

see you. Why, how wet your clothes are ; and how pale you 
look. Are you sick ? 

Geo. No, Flossy, I aint sick to speak of ; I'm quite comf ble 
here. I just couldn't help .coming back to see you. 

Arch. Yes, and he nearly lost his life in the hazard. 
Flossy, I am talking of sending George away to school, as he 
seems to have no friends. 

Flos. What ! go away ? George to go away ? And you, 
sir ? 

Arch. Never mind that. What I want to know is, whether 
you are willing he should ? 

Flos. Oh j'^^, sir; if it will be for his good. And yov, sir? 

Arch. I don't know whether / shall go or not. 

F;.os. It will be beautiful for him ; yes, he must go ; I shall 
ma/^e him. 

Arch. Will he do as you say. Flossy ? 

Flos. Oh yes ; he always does. 

Arch. But this time it will be different. He must leave 
you behind. 

Flos. Oh, as to that, / do not want to go away. 

Arch. But perhaps /le will not go without you 2 

Flos, Oh yes, he will. Poor old George ! When you 
come back, George, I suppose you will have a great moustache 
like Archie's. 

Geo. And I suppose you'd hardly say "How-d'ye-do," 
then. I say. Flossy, if I do go, will you give me a kiss for 
good-bye ? 

Flos. Why of course I will. {^She trips across the floor and 
kisses his forehead lightly^ That'll do, wont it, George ? 

Geo. Yes. You kin give the governor one too. Come, 
/'// let you. {She stops. Archie comes near her, stops, does not 
take her hand. She looks doivn for an instant and then looks up 
into his eyes very steadily. ) 

Arch. (Aside.) The girl is in love with /ne. I wish I had 
known it sooner, and I would have prevented it. [Aloud.) 



38 SHADOW CASTLE. 

George, I have changed my mind ; if you go, Flossy shall go 
with you. You may marry her, and / will care for you both. 

Flos. Marry ! you don't mean it, Archie ? Tell me, are 
you going with us ? 

Arch. Yes, I shall go home soon. 

Flos. You don't expect I would marry George, do you ? I 
never ^ never luill. 

Arch. [Aside.) This has gone far enough. [Aloud.) 
Well, we will not talk of it now. 

Flos. Oh, sir, you are not going away. Say you are not; 
say you are not. 

Arch. [Sharply.) What if I am ? 

Flos. Oh, Archie, oh — oh-h-h- [Breaks down crying.) 

Arch. There, there, child ; go back to your rest, and let 
things be just as they are until the time comes. No need of 
worrying about other things as long as your father is ill. 

Geo. Go, Flossy, and we'll talk it over to-morrow again. 
[Exit Flossy, Z.) I don't know any other girl but Flossy, gov- 
ernor, and so I don't know whether they are all alike. She's 
vowed to you that she will never marry me — and— and before 
you^ too, and it almost breaks my heart. 

Arch. Oh, nonsense ; take heart, my boy, take heart. 
Don't give up so easily. 

Geo. So easily ? But it aint so easily, governor. Seems 
as though something was broken inside of me. Oh I know Fm 
homely and poor ; but Fd work for her, and Fd take such good 
care of her, governor. Perhaps if you was to speak to her 
for me. 

Arch. Well, I will. And now pack yourself off to bed, 
for Fve had enough of love's alarms for one night. (Fog has 
raised himself up in bed., having aivakened suddenly during the 
last speech^ and now breaks out wrathfully.) 

Fog. Are you here, scoundrel ? Did I not tell you to be- 
gone and never show your face again, after daring to make 
love to my Flossy ? You miserable ingrate, after I have fed 



SHADOW CASTLE. 39 

you all these years, that you should turn on me in that style. 
I picked you up and saved you from a vessel, and it is but just 
that I should turn you adrift, when you proved so ungrateful. 
Out upon you ! out, I say ! Go this minute, and never dare 
show your face inside the door again ! 

Arch. {Aside.) That would never do. (Aloud.) It would 
be certain.death to send him out into such a storm as this. 

Fog. That makes no difference. He deserves to die a 
thousand deaths. (George is preparing to go when Flossy 
enters L. D. and runs to C. D. ) 

Flos. (Placing herself in front of the door.) Father, he 
shall not go. You must not send him out in such a storm. 
He shall not go ! 

Fog. What ! 7ny Flossy ! Ah, well, let him stay until to- 
morrow. It is as well. 

Flos. Not only to-morrow, but as long as he likes, father. 
He shall not leave this house again without my consent. 

Fog.' It shall be as you wish, my darling. (Falls back on 
his pillow. George runs to her, kneeling by her side, and kissing 
her hand.) 

curtain on picture. 



ACT III. 

Scene First. Time, winter. An ope?t stage. Snow on ground, 
and falling heavily. Fog and Archie cofiversing C. at rise. 
This scene is on the niaiiiland. 

Fog. I am quite well now ; quite strong again. You must 
go to-day, or you will find yourself frozen in here for the win- 
ter. As it is, you may hit a late vessel off the islands that will 
carry you to Chicago. 

Arch. But you are not strong enough. I cannot go and 
leave you here alone. 



40 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Fog. It is either go now, or stay all winter. You do not, I 
presume, intend to make Flossy your wife — Flossy the daughter 
of Fog the wrecker'^ 

Arch. What new thing is this ? [Suspiciously.) 

Fog. Is it new ? I thought it old ; very old. I mean no 
mystery. I speak plainly. You helped me in my great strait, 
and I thank you from the bottom of my heart ; pei;Jiaps it will 
be counted unto you for good in the reckoning up of your life. 
But I am strong again, and the ice is forming ; besides, you 
can have no intention of making Flossy your wife. 

Arch. No, I certainly have jw such inUntion. [Bajigs his 
head.) 

Fog. Very well. We must wait until dark, for Flossy seems 
restless, and perhaps she has some idea that you are going. 

Arch. Yes, she said this morning that I must not leave the 
castle. I protested, but said she, "Am I not queen of this 
castle ? You yourself have said it, many a time. You cannot 
go, Archie, for /want you here." And with that she blinded 
my eyes with her little hands. And after that it seemed much 
harder to leave her. (^Sighing.) 

Fog. So I see you are already the least bit in love with her, 
are you not ? 

Arch. Nonsense ! I shall soon forget her, if I am. But 
others have better claims on her than I have. I cannot think 
of taking her away from you now. 

Fog. No, no, no. She is my pet, my idol. I fairly wor- 
ship her. 

Arch. Do you want me to tell you the truth, old man? 
Here it is, then. I am growing too fond of that girl. A little 
more, and I shall not be able to leave her. 

Fog. Then stay. For she loves you. 

Arch. A child's love. 

Fog. She will develop. 

Arch. Not into the wife / want. 

Fog. Is she not lovely and good ? 



SHADOW CASTLE. 



41 



Arch. She is ; but I cannot forget that she is also your 
daughter. 

Fog. She is not. 

Arch. She is not ? what then ? 

Fog. I — I do not know ; I found her, when a baby. 

Arch. A foundhng ? So much the worse. That is even a 
step lower. 

Fog. {Aside.) He is as cruel as death. (Amos shrinks. 
Aloud.) Well, you are going ? 

Arch. Yes ; along shore, 

Fog. And die of hunger and cold ? 

Arch. Do you not think I can trust to my own endurance ? 

Fog. I do not trust in that ; I trust in God. 

Arch. For a wrecker and a murderer you have, I must 
say, a remarkably serene conscience. 

Fog. Let that pass, sir. So you have decided at last to go 
and leave the child ? 

Arch. She is no child, and you know it. 

Fog. To me she is. 

Arch. I care not what she is to you, or any one else. She 
shall not be to me any more than she is now. 

Fog. No more to you ? What do you mean ? 

Arch. No more than any other pretty piece of wax work. I 
hate all women. And there is no reason why I should fall in 
love with her. I am going away to avoid such a catastrophe. 
I will have nothing more to do with womankind. Give her my 
regards, and tell her we may not meet this side of the grave ; 
but if we do, I can be nothing more to her than I am now. 

Fog. What ? You would break her heart. 

Arch. Bah ! Nonsense. Women have no hearts. But 
good-bye, old man, and God bless you. {Shakes hands with 
Fog and exits L. FoG watches hivi out of sight and then goes 
off R. very sloivly.) 

Enter frotn L. Parson Peter shrinking^ as if afraid of some- 
thing following him. 



42 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Peter. Call off your dog, Mr. Jarvis. Call him off. 

Enter Jarvis. 

Jarvis. 'Fraid, are ye ? He aint doin' nothin' to you, Par- 
son ; but you're at liberty to kick him if you want to do so ; 
only you must look out for the consequences. You're lookin' 
peaked, Parson. I 'low you must be sickly. 

Peter. No, I'm not at all sickly. 

Jarvis. You aint sickly ? Well, \i you aint^ then I'd like to 
know who is, that's all ; and you limp bad, too. But it aint so 
bad with you as it would be with a larger man. Ye see there 
aint so much of you to limp ; that's one comfort. Hope busi- 
ness is good at your chapel, and that Mrs. Malone gives you 
enough to eat. You don't look like it, though. Besides, the 
winter has sot in airly and times are hard. 

Peter. *Yes, times are very hard. 

Jarvis. Yes, times are so darned hard that it's a wonder 
that the people around here can afford a preacher. They're 
not one of the necessities when a man's starvin' to death. The 
boys are arter the man that's a stealin'- pervisions from the store ; 
and they say that ef he's caught he'll hev to hang for it ; so 
you'd better look sharp. 

Peter. Why should I look sharp ? 

Jarvis. Oh, they might tackle you ; that's all. There's no 
knowing what the miners will do, when they's stirred up. 
That's all. 

Peter. My good man, I hope you don't think I would — 

Jarvis. I didn't say it was you, did I .'' I simply told you 
to look sharp. By the way, that shoutin' Methodist is at the 
schoolhouse holdin' forth now, this very minute. It's no use 
to me, of course, all your religions are alike to me, I'm free to 
say. But I wonder you and Brother Saul don't hitch up and 
work together. You'd do a heap of good if you would only 
pull together, specially sence the town aint big enough to 
afford two parsons. 

Pf.ter. His religion and mine differ, my good friend. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 43 

Jarvis. That's what he says. He was a shoutin' out last 
night and you'd jest ought to heard him. It was all about 
you, too. He said, " There's brimstone and a fiery furnace 
for them as doubts the truth. I tell you prayin' out of a book 
— and flowers, and candles, and night-gownds, 'stead of decent 
coats — for it's night-gownds they look like, though he may call 
'em surplusses — won't do no good. Sech nonsense will never 
save souls, no how. You've jest got to fall down on your knees 
and pray hard — hard — without groanin' or roarin' of the sperrit 
— until you are as weak as a rag. Nothin' else will do — 
nothin' — nothin'." 

Peter. His views and mine do not coincide. But I will 
not stop to argue the point, as I am growing very cold. So I 
will say good-day. I must harden myself to the cold. This 
evil tendency to self-indulgence must be crushed : good-day, 
sir. [Exit R.) 

Jarvis. Ha, ha, ha ! He's a queer dog, anyhow. Cold, 
is. he? Well, I reckon this cold winter will about finish him 
up. Here comes my Jeannette. I must give her a piece of 
my mind about cantering round after the parson. 

Enter Jeannette Z., with a book in her hands. 

Well, Miss Jeannette, I see you are jest gettin' home from 
church. You've been up to hear that little dried-up parson. 
I aint goin' to stand by and see it, Jeannette. The puny little 
chap, the next thing he'll be makin' love to you. 

Jean. He cares nothing for me. 

Jarvis. He shan't have a chance to care, if /can help it. 
You're free to say " no " to me, Jeannette ; but ye ain't free to 
say "yes" to him. A reg'lar coward; that's what he is! 
Why, he ran away from my dog jest now — ran like he was 
scared half to death. 

Jean. You set the dog on him, Jarvis. 

Jarvis. Well, what ef I did ? He needn't have run. Any 
other man would have sent the beast flying in no time at all. 



44 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Jean. Now, Jarvis, do promise me that you will not tease 
him any more. 

Jarvis. Well, if he had any spirit at all he'd be ashamed to 
have a girl begging for him not to be teased. But never mind 
that ; I'll let him alone fast enough, Jeannette, if you will, too. 

Jean. If I will ; what do you mean ? 

Jarvis. Oh, come now ; you know very well you're always 
after him — a goin' to his chapel where no one else goes hardly, 
and a listenin' to his preachin', and a havin' your picter hung 
up in his room. 

Jean. What ! my picture ? 

Jarvis. Leastways, so Mrs. Malone said, when I took break- 
fast there this mornin'. 

Jean. (Aside.) My picture! can it be possible that he loves 
me, foo ? 

Jarvis. (Aside.) Is s/ie in love with him, too ? (Aloud.) 
Let him look out for himself, that's all I have to say. I'll be 
even with him, and I wont be long about it, neither. You "11 
never have the little parson alive. He'll be found missing 
some mornin', and nobody will be to blame for it but you, 
nuther. 

Jean. Why, what do you mean, Jarvis ? 

Jarvis. I mean just what I say, Jeannette. Think it over 
and take care, that's all. (Exit L.) 

Jean. What does Jarvis mean ? What ! would he threaten 
the parson's life ? But / will defend him. Yes, / will warn 
him — now — ah, here he comes. 

Enter Peter, ^. 

Peter. Why, Jeannette, is it you ? But why do you linger 
so long in the cold ? You should take better care of yourself. 

Jean. No, no, it is you that should take care of yourself. 
Jarvis threatens — 

Peter. And why should Jarvis threaten me? But you 
need not answer. I know the story already too well. It is 



SHADOW CASTLE. 45 

because he is jealous of you. Well, then, say to Ja'rvis that I 
shall never marry. I have consecrated my life to my sacred 
calling. 

Jean. {Aside.) Never marry ? Oh, he does not mean that. 
{_Hidcs her face in her hands for a moment.) Oh, I will not 
believe it, [Aloud.) Mr. Peter, is it wrong to marry? 

Peter. For nie — it is. 

Jean.' Why? 

Peter. Because I am a priest. 

Jean. Are you a Catholic, then ? 

Peter. I am a Catholic, although not in the sense you 
mean. Mine is the true Catholic faith, which the Anglican 
church has kept pure from the errors of Rome, and mine it is 
to make my life conform with the high office I hold. 

Jean. Is it part of your high office to be cold, and hungry, 
and wretched ? 

Peter. I am not wretched. 

Jean. You are ; now, and at all times. You are killing 
yourself. 

Peter. No ; else I had died long ago. 

Jean. Well then, of what use is your poor life as you now 
live it, either to yourself or to any one else ? Do you succeed 
among the miners ? How many have you brought into the 
church ? 

Peter. Not one. 

Jean. And yourself ? Have you succeeded so far in mak- 
ing a saint of yourself ? 

Peter. God knows I have not. I have failed in my work, 
I have failed in myself. I am, of all men, the most miserable 
— most miserable, because I love you. 

Jean. Why fight against it ? You love me, and I — I — love 
you. 

Peter. [Aside.) All the kingdoms of the world and the 
glory of them would not be to me so much as this. [Aloud.) 
Child, you know not what you do. Do not tempt me. [He 
turns to go, and is ivalking R.) 



^6 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Jean. 'Oh, Parson, Parson ! come back, come back ! Do 
not leave me ! [Si/i^s on her knees. He conies back to her, and 
lifts her up tenderly in his arms.) 

Peter. Be comforted, Jeannette, it is but a fancy ; you will 
soon forget me. You do not really love me — such a one as /. 
But I thank you, dear heart, for the gentle thoughts you have 
given to poor me. Good-bye ; and may God bless you. [He 
takes her hand for a moment tenderly^ and then exits R. slowly, 
while she puts out her arms appealingly to him. Close in with 
flats in one.) 

Scene Second. Time: One day later. Wood scene. Forest 
in winter. 

Enter from R. Fog and Flossy, she leaning on him. 

Flos. Oh, father, where is Archie ? 

Fog. Gone hunting, my child. 

Flos. For all day ? 

Fog. Yes, and perhaps for all night. For all time, it 
may be. 

Flos. Oh, but he must come home soon now. Father, 
father, where is he ? ( Weeps.) 

Fog. [Benditig oiier her tenderly.) Flossy, do I not love 
you ? Am I not enough ? Think, dear, how long we have 
lived here, and how happy we have lived. He was only a 
stranger. Come, let us forget him, and go back to the old days. 

Flos. What! has he gone, then ? Gone for good and all ? 
[Springs away from him, as if contaminated.) Where is he? 
Where is Archie ? What have you done with him ? You — you 
— have you killed him ? 

Fog. [Aside.) Killed him ! my God, does she, too, think 
me a murderer ? 

Flos. Tell me, what have you done with him ? 

Fog. My child, I tried to keep him. I would have given 
him my place in your love, in your life, but he would not. He 
has gone ; he cares not for you ; he is a hard, evil man. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 47 

Flos. He is not. But even if he were, / love him. ( Throws 
up her hands.) Is there no one to help me? [Sinks on her 
knees. ) 

Fog. (Conies to her, lifts her tip and strokes her hair tenderly.') 
What can we do, dear child ? He ivould not stay — I could not 
keep him. 

Flos. But /could have kept him. 

Fog. You surely would not have asked him to stay, if he 
wished to go ? 

Flos. Yes, I would; and he would have staid for my sake. 

Fog. But if he had loved you, dear, he would not have 
gone. 

Flos. Did he say he did not love me ? [Appealingly. He 
hesitates.) Did he say he did not love me? Did Archie say 
that ? {Grasping his arjn.) 

Fog. Yes, he said that. (Aside.) God forgive me for tell- 
ing her a lie. (She falls on his breast and he catches her as she 
is about to slip to ground?) My God, she has fainted ! Oh, 
what have I done ? I only meant to rouse her pride, and I 
have killed it. (Chafes at her hands and draws her to him 
closely. Takes off his coat and wraps it around her?) 

Enter Archie from Z., slowly and painfully, as if hurt. 

Thank God you have come, and at the w'ght moment. Come 
here, quickly. The girl has fainted. 

Arch. Why in heaven's name did you bring this child out 
such a cold day as this ? Have you no pity, no compassion for 
the child ? 

Fog. She made me ; I could not resist. She would come, 
and I had to bring her. She could not rest until she had found 
you. But I thought you were farther along than this. ( They 
both chafe her hands and try to restore her.) 

Arch. Yes, I was farther along ; but I fell and injured my 
knee, yesterday ; and since then I have been slowly freezing, 
I have been crawling back slowly all day to keep myself alive, 



48 SHADOW CASTLE. 

in hopes of getting back to the castle ; I had just given up all 
hope when I saw you. I was a fool to go. Help me back, old 
man. It is too much of an undertaking for me — I give it up. 

Fog. Help you back — back where ? What is too much for 
you ? 

Arch. Why do you ask, when you already know that I 
love this little girl more than I love my life. Take me back to 
your castle, and I will not go away again. Thank God she is 
coming to herself. (Flossy slowly revives?) Let her but come 
back to life, and I will say not one word more, not one word 
more. Who am I that I should torture her thus ? We shall all 
go back together and trust it all to God. Awake, my little love. 

Flos. Where am I ? {^She revives slowly and looks at Archie 
nntil she recognizes him, then throivs herself into his arms?) Oh, I 
have found you, Archie, I have found you. Now I am so happy. 

Arch. But why — why — did you come out on such a cold 
day as this, little one ? 

Flos. I could not rest last night, I know not why ; so I 
dressed softly and found that you had gone, and father with 
you. You never go out at night, and it was very cold ; and I 
found you had taken your gun and knapsack, and that picture 
of the lady that is so very dear to you. From that I knew that 
something had happened. So when the day broke I wakened 
father and made him come with me, and here I am, Archie ; 
and I am so happy because I have found you. But I am so 
cold — so very cold. Let us go back home now. 

Arch. ( Takes off his coat and places it around her.) Yes, let 
us go at once ; and may God forgive me for my folly which 
has caused you to come out on such a bitter day as this, and 
on such a bitter errand. ( They exit slowly R., supporting Flossy 
who clings to Archie.) 

Full off and disclose. 

Scene Third. Time : One day later, same as Scene First. Amos 
Fog is being bound to a tree by miners, Jarvis and others. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 49 

Jarvis. Run, Mason — run to Beaver town and tell all the 
miners that we have caught him at last — the thief. Tell them 
all to come out to the mine. Tell them that we have tracked 
him to his den and there we found barrels, and sacks, and 
kegs, but he has made awa)'' with most of the stuff ; he took it 
all, every crumb, and us a starvin'; but we've got him now, 
and we're goin' to make a sample of him. Tell them all to 
come out and see the fun. i^Exit Mason Z., running.) Yes, 
and we'll take our own time to him, too. He's made us suffer, 
and now he shall suffer a bit, if I know myself. (Jarvis pro- 
ceeds to bind Amos closely to the tree. The other miners build a 
small fire on the L. of stage.) 

Fog. Have mercy, gentlemen ; for the love of heaven, have 
mercy. 

Jarvis. No mercy here. We will torture you to death, and 
not shoot you like a common thief. Hanging and shooting is 
too good for the likes of you. 

Enter miners shouting. The Parson comes last and breaks 

through the circle^ runs foi^ward^ and throws his arm around 

Amos. The miners go to the fire and get brands at the fire 

which they raise as if to to throw at Fog. 

Peter. If you kill him you must kill me also. i^Tries to 
hide Amos with his body.) Are you men ? No ! shame on you ; 
murderers ! 

Jarvis. Hear the little man. Hurrah, Parson Peter, go ahead. 

Peter. Why do you wish to kill him ? 

Jarvis. Why? How can you ask that ? A thief is worse 
than a murderer here on the border ; a life doesn't count so 
much as food. For months this man has been stealing our 
goods, our provisions, and all search has been in vain, until we 
tracked him to his den in the woods where he had provisions 
heaped up, when ^ve were actually starving. Now, can you 
ask why we want to kill him. Parson ? Stand aside, there. 

Peter. No, I will not. What are clothes and provisions 
to a life ? 



50 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Jarv. Life aint worth much without them. He took all 
we had, and we've gone cold and hungry 'long of him, and he 
knowed it all the time. 

Peter. If he is guilty, let him be tried by the proper legal 
authorities. 

Jarv. We're our own legal 'thorities. Parson. 

Peter. Well then, the country will ca.\\ you to account. 

Jarv. The country wont do nothin' of the kind. Much 
the country cares for us poor miners frozen up here in the 
woods. Stand back, Parson. Why should you bother about 
this man? Stand aside, I say. (One of the crowd throws a 
stick of wood ^ which hits the Parson?) 

Crowd. 'Fraid of a dog, 'fraid of a dog! 

Mason. {One of the mifiers shies a stick at the Parson which 
hits hi?n.) Why, he's brought the blood this time. I thought 
his blood was only water, but it's rale stuff. 

Jarv. Come Parson, we don't want to hurt you. Stand 
aside. We're masters here. 

Peter. And if you are masters, then be just. Give the 
criminal to me; I will take him to the nearest jail and deliver 
him up. 

Jarv. He'll be more likely to deliver you up, Parson. 

Peter. Well then, send a committee of your own men with 
me — 

Jarv. We've got other things to do besides takin' long 
journeys over the ice to accommodate thieves. Parson, leave 
the man to us. 

Peter. And to torture? Men, men, you would not treat a 
beast so! 

Jarv. A beast don't steal our food and whiskey. Stand 
back, stand back. Parson. You're too little to fight. 

Peter. But not too little to die. ( Throws his arms up and 
shields Yog, facijig them bravely?) Think of yourselves. Are 
you without fault? If you murder this man you are worse than 
he is. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 5 I 

Jarv. Worse? Worse than a sneakin' hypocrite? Look 
here, we wont stand that. Sheer off, or take the consequences. 

Peter. Not one, but both of us. (Def ending Fog.) 

Jarv. Why, the man's a downright fool. The man's mad. 

Peter. I am not mad, but I am a minister of the great God 
who has said to men, *' Thou shalt not murder." Omen, 
brothers! Look back into your own Hves. Have you no 
crimes? No sins to be forgiven? And can you expect mercy 
when you give none? 

Jarv. Facts wont alter, Parson. The man is a thief and 
must be punished. Your talk will do for women folks, not 
for us. 

Mason. {One of the miners?) Women folks. He's a sly 
fox, this Parson. Didn't I see him with Jeannette in his arms 
this mornin'? Oh, no. 

Jarv. {^Springing forward and grasping Mason by the 
throat?) Liar! 

Mason. No liar at all, Jarvis. I seen them with my own 
eyes. Just ask the Parson. 

Jarv. {Comes np to the Parson and stands over him.) Is it 
true? Did you meet that girl, and did you have her in your 
arms? 

Peter. I met her, and I had her in my arms, but she was 
insensible. 

Jarv. It is a lie. Now you must take the consequences. 
i^Picks tip a brand and is about to hurl it at the Parson when 
Archie and Flossy enter L. She runs to her father and Archie 
confronts Jarvis. Jarvis is about to strike at Archie whe7i 
Jeannette ^;^/^r5 behind ] A'RNiSy and catches his arm. Strug- 
gles to take the brand away?) 

tableau, — CURTAIN, 



52 SHADOW CASTLE. 

ACT FOURTH. 
Time: The year following, i?i the spring-time. 

Scene One. Interior of Yog''~> castle. Archie seated R. and 
Fog Z., c 071V er sing at rise. 

Fog. The ice is moving out. In a month you can sail 
safely, and I suppose you will go for good this time. 

Arch. Yes, and I shall take Flossy with me. I intend to 
make Flossy my wife. 

Fog. At last? ■ 

Arch. At last. No wonder you are glad. 

Fog. Glad ? No, not glad. 

Arch. Of course it is a great thing for you to have Flossy 
off your hands and placed in a home high above your expecta- 
tions. Ah! Love is a strange power. I do not deny that I 
have fought against it — but — but why should I conceal it ? I 
love Flossy with all my heart and soul; she seems to have 
grown into my very being. 

Fog. [Lea?is foriuard and grasps Archie liy the hand.) I 
know you love her. I know something of men; and I have 
watched you closely. It is for this love that I forgive — I mean 
that I am glad and thankful for it — very thankful. 

Arch. And you have reason to be. As my wife. Flossy 
will have a home, a circle of friends which — but you could not 
understand. Let it pass. And now tell me all you know of 
her. 

Fog. Will you have the whole story? 

Arch. As well now as ever, I suppose; but be as brief as 
possible. 

Fog. Well then, forty years ago or thereabouts, a murder 
was committed in New York City. I shall not tell you what it 
was; there is no need; enough that the whole East was stirred 
up, and a heavy reward was offered for the man who did the 
deed. I am that man. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 53 

Arch. Good God! Can it be possible? And you dare 
confess it now? 

Fog. Yes, why should I excuse the deed to you now? No, 
I will not. It was done and /did it; that is enough. The 
damning fact that has made my whole after life a bitter 
draught. There was no gain to me; only loss — black, eternal 
loss of everything, in heaven above or on the earth; for hell 
itself seemed to spew me out. 1 fled away with the mark of 
Cain on my brow; and the horror was so strong on me that I 
could not kill myself, for I feared to join the dead. I fled to 
the uttermost parts of the earth and yet came back again to the 
scene of my crime, moved by a strange impulse. After years 
had passed I returned to the old home, and crept to the old 
house where my only sister was living alone. 

Arch. The sister you call Shadow? 

Fog. Yes. I made myself known to her. She left her 
home and followed me with a sort of dumb affection — poor old 
woman. We kept together after that — two hunted creatures, 
instead of one; we were always fleeing, always imagining that 
fingers were pointed at us. I called her my " Shadow," and we 
took the name of ^' Fog " — to us meaning that we were nothing 
but creatures of the mist. 

Arch. The name was certainly appropriate. 

Fog. At last one day the cloud over my mind seemed to 
lighten a little as the thought came to me that no punishment 
can endure forever without impugning the justice of the 
Creator. 

Arch. You are right, as near as hum.an judgment can know 
of such things. But let me hear the rest of your story. 

Fog. Well, the thought came to me that some day my pun- 
ishment should end. That day I found Flossy on the wreck of 
the steamer; no one knew anything about her; she was almost 
in rags, fair and delicate, and wasted by sickness. Then an- 
other thought came to me — expiation! I would take this for- 
lorn little creature, and bring her up as my own child, tenderly, 
carefully — a life for a life. 



54 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. You could not have had a better expiation. 

Fog. Yes; and my poor old sister took to the child wonder- 
fully too. We wandered for a time longer after we came west- 
ward to the lakes, and several years before we settled here. 
Shadow took care of the babe, and made her dresses and taught 
her to sew and read. You must not think that Flossy is totally 
ignorant. 

Arch. I will teach her. 

Fog. Is it strange that I should become attached to the 
child ? I have loved her with so great a love all these years 
that my days have flown by; for her I have sailed out over the 
icy waters, and into the storm; for her I have hunted through 
the winters, and have dared a thousand deaths, to labor, to 
suffer, to save, for her sake — these have been my pleasures 
through all these years. When I came home, here she was to 
meet me, her sweet voice calling me Father, the only father she 
had ever known. When my poor old sister died, I took her 
away in my boat at night and buried her in deep water. My 
darling knows nothing of death. I could not tell her. 

Arch. And those wrecks ? How do you make them bal- 
ance with your scheme of expiation ? 

Fog. I will not have them brought up in that way; I tell 
you I WILL not. Have I not explained that I was desperate? 
What are one or two miserable crews to the delicate life of my 
beautiful child ? And the men had their chances, in spite of 
my desperate lure. Does not every storm threaten them with 
death ? But shall I tell you the whole ? Listen then. Those 
wrecks were the greatest sacrifices, the most bitter tasks of my 
hard life; the nearest approach I have yet made to expiation. 

Arch. How do you mean ? 

Fog. Do you suppose I wished them to drown ? Do you 

suppose I knew not the greatness of my crime ? Ah ! I knew 

It only too well, and yet I sailed out and did the deed. It was 

for her sake — to keep her from suffering and starvation; so, I 

sacrificed myself bravely. I would murder a thousand men in 



SHADOW CASTLE. ce 

cold blood, and bear a thousand additional punishments to 
keep my darling safe and warm. Do you not see that my whole 
life has been a self-sacrifice, the greatest, the most complete I 
could make ? I vowed to keep my darling tenderly; I have 
kept my vow. See that you keep yours. 

Arch. I will, God helping me. 

Fog. I know you love her, but how much ? 

Arch. Does it need the asking? Am I not giving up my 
life, my name, everything into her hands? 

Fog. You could not give them into hands more pure. 

Arch. I know it. I am content. And yet I sacrifice some- 
thing — family and friends. 

Fog. Do you hesitate ? 

Arch. Of course I do not. Why do you ask ? But some 
things may be pardoned in a case like mine. 

Fog. I can pardon them. 

Arch. I can teach her, of course, and a year or so among 
cultivated people will work wonders; I think I shall take her 
abroad first. How soon did you say we could go ? 

Fog. The ice is moving. There will be vessels through 
the straits in two or three weeks. (His voice trembles. Archie 
looks up and finds hi jn weeping.) Forgive me; but the little girl 
is very dear to me. 

Arch. She shall be as dear to me as she has been to you, 
do not fear. My love is proven by the very struggle I have 
made against it. I venture to say no man ever fought harder 
against himself than I have in this old castle of yours. I kept 
that picture of my Francesca as a counter-charm. It is the 
portrait of a woman who, at a word, will give herself and her 
fortune into my keeping — a woman high in the cultivated cir- 
cles of society here and abroad, beautiful, accomplished, a 
queen in her sphere. But all was useless ! That long night in 
the snow, when I crawled back and forth to keep myself from 
freezing, it came to me with a power I could not resist, that 
the whole of earth and all its gifts could not be compared 



5^6 SHADOW CASTLE. 

with the love I felt for this little girl, and she will be very happy 
with me. 

Fog. I know it. 

Arch. Did you foresee this end ? 

Fog. I could only hope for it. I saw that she loved you. 

Arch. Well, well; it was natural, after all. Your expiation 
has ended better than you hoped; for the little orphan girl you 
have reared has found a home and friends, and you need 
yourself work no more. Choose your home anywhere, here or 
elsewhere in the West, and I will see that you are comfortable 
for the rest of your life. 

Fog. I will stay here. 

Arch. As you please; Flossy shall not forget you. She 
will write you often. Do you know what day to-morrow is ? 

Fog. Yes, it is Christmas; but Flossy knows nothing of 
Christmas. I never could bear to tell her the story of the 
cross. 

Arch. Then she shall know; I have prepared a Christmas 
tree and loaded it down with presents, such as I could procure. 
( Goes to door C. a?id thi'ows it open, I'evealing a Christmas tree 
surmounted with a small cross and loaded with trinkets?) It is 
but a poor thing after all; but I had no way of getting better 
presents for her out here in the woods. 

Fog. Perhaps I can help you. [Goes to a closet and opens it, 
producing a box of toys.) I did not show you this for fear it 
would anger you; but there must have been a child on board 
after all. This came from that steamer that was wrecked. 
(^They proceed to tie the toys on the tree.) 

Flos. (Enter Flossy jR.) Why, what does all this 
mean ? 

Fog. You tell her. [Aside to K-^cni-s..) 

Arch. It means, Flossy, that to-morrow is Christmas, and 
that out in the world where we are going, Christmas is always 
celebrated by giving presents, and trees like this are always 
decked for children. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 57 

« 

Flos. Am I a child ? What do _;'<?// think, father? 

Arch. What do you think, Flossy ? 

Flos. T hardly know; sometimes I think I am, and some- 
times not. But it is of no consequence what I am, so long as 
I have you and father. Tell me more about the little tree, 
Archie. What does it mean ? Wliat is that little white shining 
toy on the top ? Is there a story about it ? 

Arch. Yes, there is a story — but — but — but it is not /who 
should tell it to you. 

Flos. Why not ? Whom have I in all this world to tell 
me save you ? 

Arch. I will tell you some other timCj Flossy; it is a long 
story. You will learn of it, all in good time, when we get out 
into the big world I have told you of. 

Flos. When will that be ? 

Arch. It will be soon; for spring will soon be here. Our 
ark has kept us very cosy through the bitter weather, has it not, 
little one ? 

Flos. Ark ! What is that ? 

Arch. That is part of the story too. An ark is a watery 
residence like this. If Japhet had had you in his ark, in my 
opinion he would never have come down at all, but would have 
resided permanently on Mount Ararat. 

Flos. Yes, but you see he didn't. It wouldn't have done 
him any good anyhow — as long as I had you. 

Arch. {Bending over her.) Flossy, do you love me so 
much ? 

Flos. You know that I do. {Throivs her anus around 
hiin^ You know I do, Archie, 

Arch. Flossy, do you know how much I love you ? I am 
afraid to think of what life would seem without you. 

Flos. Well, then, don't think of it," since I am here. Do 
you know, Archie, I think if I had not loved you so much, you 
would not have loved me, and then — it would have been — that 
is — I mean — it would have been different. 



58 SHADOW CASTLE. 

Arch. {Laughing^ Flossy, are you sure you can love me 
as much as I crave ? 

Flos. (She draws herself aiuay from Jiim?) I don't know. 

Arch. [Aside.) I am not sure but that she is a water sprite 
after all. But she will learn to love me in time. [Aloud.') We 
must have the old castle more comfortable. I will try to send 
up some furniture from below when we get to Chicago. 

Flos. Isn't it comfortable now ? I am sure I always 
thought this room beautiful. 

Arch. What ? This clumsy imitation of a second-class 
Western steamer ? Child, it is hideous. 

Flos. Is it ? (Fog hangs his head in silence.) 

Arch. And how you look, old gentleman. I must really 
send you some new clothes. Flossy, how have you been able 
to endure such shabby rags so long ? All the time before I 
came, did it not force itself upon you ? 

Flos. I do not know. I never noticed. It was always 
just father, you know. 

Fog. He is right. Flossy; I am shabby, indeed. But yoii- 
will soon forget me. 

Flos. [Runs to him and embraces hi?n.) Never, father, as 
long as I live. 

Fog. [Looks up at Archie.) What are your plans ? 

Arch. For what ? 

Fog. For the marriage. 

Arch. [Aside.) Aha. He is in a hurry to secure the 
prize. The sharp old fellow. (Aloud.) Why, I thought we 
three would all sail over to Beaver Village, and there we could 
be married by the parson, and take the first steamer for Chi- 
cago; you could then return here at your leisure. 

Fog. Would it not be a better plan to bring the parson 
here, and then you two can sail without me ? I am not as 
strong as I was; I feel that I cannot bear — I mean that you 
had better go without me. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 59 

Arch. As you please. I thought it would be a chance for 
you, that is all. 

Fog. It would only prolong — no, I think if you are willing, 
we will have the marriage here, and then you gan sail imme- 
diately. 

Arch. I did not suppose you would be in such haste to 
part with Flossy. But where shall we find a clergyman ? 

Fog. Here is one. 

Enter Jeannette and Peter, L. 

Flos. (^E?nbractng her father.) Oh, father, father, must I 
leave you ? Oh, father, I cannot, I cannot leave you thus. 
( Weeping.) 

Arch. [Aside). I cannot let them keep up this deception 
longer. It hurts me to the heart's core to see her love this old 
man more than she loves me. ^ I must speak out. [Aloud.) 
He is not your father. He has no claim on you. Do you not 
wish to come with me, darling ? 

Flos. [Shrinking back from both.) Not my father ? Oh, 
you do not mean it ! 

Fog. No, dear, he is right; I am not your father. [He 
shudders., and hangs down his head. Flossy flies into his arms; 
he kisses her., and then leads her to Archie. She rushes back to 
Fog.) 

Flos. Oh, father, father, I cannot leave you so, for you are 
my father; the only father I ever knew — and so kind and good 
to me. [Kneels by his side. He takes a small phial from his 
pocket and drinks th-e contents without being observed by the rest., 
except Flossy.) 

Flos. [Aside to him.) What is that ? 

Fog. [Aside to her.) It is nothing; I am an old man, my 
child, and — all is well. [Aloud.) As the parson is here I de- 
sire the ceremony to take place at once. [Rises, and gets a 
prayer book from closet) Have you any objection to using the 
Episcopal service ? I— I have heard it before, and besides, you 



6o SHADOW CASTLE. 

are an Episcopalian. ( The parso7i takes the prayer book and 
goes through the wedding ceremony, reading it from the book. 
Fog shrinks away in one corner. He comes forward Tuhcn the 
parson asks, " Who give th this woman to be married to this manT^ 
and gives her away. The ceremony is then completed?) 

Fog. Now, parson, here is your wedding fee; and here is a 
fine lot of provisions for you. I wish I could give you more for 
saving my life; yes, I can. Here is a bag of money, all I have; 
I shall never need it. I willtake you in sight of Beaver Island 
and then leave you to row over alone, for I dare not go there 
now, as the miners might kill me. The weather is good and 
we can soon reach there. Come, it is time that we should go. 
(Goes L.) 

Flos. Father, you must not go, for somehow I feel as if 
you would never come back alive. Oh, you must not go. You 
shall not. (Fog reels and is about to fall, when she catches him; 
Archie and the parson rush to her aid and lay him on the sofa. 
They all gather around hi jn.) 

Flos. ( IVeeping.) Oh, Archie, what does this mean ? 

Arch. I do not know. Something has happened to him. 
He is now almost unconscious, but he will soon recover. 
(Fog moans. The parson stoops down and puts his ear to Fog's 
heart.) 

Peter. It is beating very slowly — scarcely perceptible. 
The man is in a comatose state, and unless he is aroused it 
will soon be over. ( They try to rouse him and chafe his hands; 
he opens his eyes and looks around. Flossy rushes to him and 
throws her arms around him?) 

Flos. Speak, father, speak. 

Fog. I could not help it, my child. I did it because I 
could not bear to live after you go away. (He drops the 
phial from his clenched hand, and it falls to the floor. Archie 
picks it up and reads label?) 

Arch. (Aside.) Poison ? Then it is all over. But I did 
not think he had the courage to kill himself. 



SHADOW CASTLE. 6l 

Fog, (S/owly.) It is all well, my child. Life would have 
been very hard without you, my darling. But now that I am 
called away it is sweet to know that you are happy, and better 
still to know that I ca/i die happy. Be kind to her, Archie. I 
/^/wia yott love her, but guard her tenderly; I die content, my 
child, quite content. {^She rushes to Archie, and the priest 
kneels <7/ Fog's bedside and prays. ^ 

Flos. Oh, Archie, Archie, what does this mean ? 

Arch. My little wife, this is death — a thing that you 
knew not of. But do not fear. 

Fog. No, do not grieve for me, my child. My crime is 
expiated. Oh, God ! It is expiated. [Falls back on his 
pillow^ 

CURTAIN- ON PICTURE. 

(Archie and Flossy C. She is weeping on his breast. Par- 
son is kneeling beside the bed praying, and Jeannette is beside 
him.. The parson closes the dead 7nan's eyes and then rising, takes 
Jeannette in his arms. Curtain 07i second picture.^ 



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Now Ready, No. 1. 
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" The selections are choice in quality and in large variety."— 
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" The latest and best things from our popular writers appear 
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CONTENTS OF NO. 1. 



Keep the Mill A-going. 

Faces in the Fire. 

In School Days. 

The Two Roads. 

Extreme Unction. 

Baron Grimalkin's Death. 

Words and Their Uses. 

Fritz's Troubles. 

Two Christmas Eves. 

An Interview Between the School 

Directors and the Janitor. 
To the Memory of the late Brig]\am 

Young. 
How Liab and I Parted. 
Old Grimes' Hen. 
The Average Modern Traveler. 
At My Mother's Grave. 
The Newsboy's Debt. 
Mrs. Potts' Dissipated Husband. 
I See the Point. 
The Professor in Shafts. 
Mr. Sprechelheimer'e Mistake. 
God's Time. 
The Little Folks. 
The Old Schoolmaster. 
The Revolutionary Rising. 
Pat's Letter. 
How to Go to Sleep. 
Nothing. 

De Pen and De Swoard. 
A Greyport Legend— 1797. 
The Life-Boat is a gallant Bark. 
Birthday Gifts. 
The Superfluous Man. 
Sockery Setting a Hen. 



The Water that Has Passed. 

Medley— Mary's Little Lamb. 

The Launch of the Ship 

Aunt Kindly. 

Evening at the Farm. 

Battle of Beal An' Duinc. 

Passing Away. 

Mark Twain and the Interviewer 

Daybreak. 

True Life. 

Modern Loyalty. 

Unfinished Still. 

Allow for the Crawl. 

The Silent Tower of Boltreaux. 

Gentility. 

The Drunkard. 

The Poetical Patch Quilt. 

WnatisLife? 

Art Thou Living Yet? 

New Year's Chime. 

Song of the Chimney. 

A Domestic Tempest. 

Common Sense. 

How Mr. Coffin Spelled it. 

The Old Man in the Palace Car. 

Ego and Echo. 

A Night Picture. 

A Penitent. * 

Rum's Ruin. 

The Babies. 

What Is It to Mc? 

Our First Commander. 

Horseradish. 

The Doom of Claudius and Cynthia 



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•'Tine selections are fresh, pure, and elevating.''''— Missouri Teaeher. 

CONTENTS OF No. 2. 

Albert Drecker, Pathetic Thomas J. Hyatt 5 

Better in the Morning, Pathetic Bev. Leander 3. Coan 6 

Blue Sky Somewhere , Vera 9 

Wounded, Battle Poem J. W. Watson Ig 

Papa's Letter, Pathetic 14 

Grandfather's Reverie, Pathetic Theodore Parker 16 

The Old Village Choir Ben,). F. Taylor 18 

At the Party Elizabeth Stuart Phelps 19 

Romance at Home, Humorous Fanny Fern 21 

The Legend of the Organ Builder Harper's Magazine 82 

I Vaeh So Glad I Vaeh Here, very Humorous :^ 

Der Dogund der Lobster, Humorous Saul Sertrew 26 

What Was His Creed? 28 

Dedication of Gettysbm-g Cemetery Abraham Lincoln 29 

Time Turns the Table, Excellent 30 

The Man Who Hadn't Any Objection, Humorous 32 

The Soldier's Mother, Sentimental m 2& 

*'De Pervisions, Josiar." Humorous 34 

A Response to Beautiful Snow, Sentimental Sallie J. Hancock 36 

The Defence of Lucknow, Heroic Tennyson 36 

A Model Discourse, Humorous 41 

My Darling's Shoes 43 

The Volunteer Soldiers of the Union Robert G. Ingersoll 44 

Life, Compilation Mrs. H. A. Darning 46 

The Old-Fashioned Mother 47 

De 'Sperience ob de Reb 'rend Quacko Strong, Humorous 48 

A Heart to Let 50 

Jimmy Butler and the Owl, Humorous Anonymous 51 

Presentiments, Pathetic T. S. Denison 54 

Eloquence or Oratory 56 

Raising the Flag at Sumter Henry Ward Beecher 57 

Parrhasius and the Captive N. P. Willis 59 

Portent Celia Thaxter .62 

He Wasn't Ready, Humorous ^ 

The Old Clock in the Corner Eugene J. Hall 64 

An Illustration, Fine Description^ Eev. Philip Krohn, D. D. 66 

The Seven Stages , Anonymous 68 

The Bells of Shandon Francis Mahony 69 

Circumlocution on The House that Jack Built, Fine 71 

The Brakeman goes to Church, Humorous Burdette 73 

Addi'ess to Class of '77, Knox College President Bateman "JB 

Bay Billy, Battle Incident Frank H. Gassaway 78 

The Flood and the Ark, Humorous Darkey Sermon 83 

The Steamboat Race. . , , Mark Twain 85 

Battle of Gettysburg Chas. F. Ward 90 

A Connubial Eclogue, Humorous J. G. Saxe 93 

The Chambered Nautilus Oliver W. Holmes 95 

Ascent of Fu-si-Yama Dora Schoonmaker Soper 96 

The Musician's Tale, Splendid Sea Tale Longfellow 98 

Vera Victoria H. M. Soper 104 

Ruining the Minister's Parrot, very Funny 106 

The Irish Philosopher, Humorous ^. 109 

Confession of a Drunkard Ill 

The Fatal GiasB Laura U. Case 111 

The Gambler's Wife .....JR. Coates 112 

Dream of the Reveler 114 

The Lost Steamer Eugene J. Hall 116 

One Glass More 117 

I'll take what Father takes W. Hoyle 118 

A Glass of Cold Water JohnB. Gough 120 

The Glass Railroad Geo. Lippard 121 

Siening the Pledge 123 

The War with Alcohol W.E. Williams 126 

A Tragedy Talmage 128 

^ 3 




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•* There is such a variety of prose and poetry, pathos, fun and narrative asS 
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CONTENTS OF No. 3. 

Flash— The Fireman's story Will Carleton 

ASmoothPath Millie C. Pomero} 

Thelhree Friends, Humorous Burdetik 

Mosses— Earth's Humblest Children . . . ; J. Ruski% 

The Nineteenth Century Teacher, Humorous 

The Blind Man and his Candle, A Fable J. G. Saxt 

A Thunder Storm, Fine Description A. P. Mtllef 

He Wouldn't Hush, Humorous 

The Bells ...Edgar A. Pol 

The Bla cksmith of Bottle Dell James Maurice Thompson 

What Farmer Green Said 

Napoleon at Rest J. Pierponi 

Benedict Arnold's Death-bed George LtpparA 

Soliloquy, Humorous By a Girl oj the PerioA 

One Cent and Costs, Humorous Boston Globt 

Poet and Painter.....* Miss H. R. Hudsou 

Maud Mulier's Moving-, Humorous -.• 

What is Ambition? Fine Description N. P. Wtllts 

Kentucky Philosophy, Very Funny Harper's Monthly 

The Problem of Lite, Fine Theodore Ttlton 

Praise of Little Women, Excellent //". W.Longfellow 

Address to Class of '77 National School of Oratory Pres. Shoemaker 

Rizpah, Fine Pathos Mrs. Ltccy Bltnn 

Last Charge of Ney J- T. Headley 

Decoration Day Speech, Fine Oration Col. R. G. Ingersoll 

Soldier' Re-union Dr. F. S. Bennett 

Music Hath Charms, Humorous Rockland Courier Gazette 

Am Life Wuf deLibin? Comic Detroit Free Press 

The Diamond Wedding •.••• 

The Palace, Descriptive T.S. Denison 

Driving a Cow, Humorous Burltngt07t Haiukeye 

A Condensed Novel • 

God Wills It So. A Plea and Answer, Temperance 

Mr. Middlerib's Experiment or Movement Cure for Rheu- 

^ matism. Humorous Burlington Hawkeye 

Medley H.M.Soper 

Vat You Please, Humorous Wm. B. Fowle 

Opportunity for Effort George R. Kussell 

Battle of Cannae, Fine Description E,ben Hale Wellj 

Pierre La Forge's Dream Eva /Catherine Mif* 

Quousque Tandem O'Catalina ? Humorous Rev. A . L. Fnsbit 

Deacon Kent in Politics, First Rate Rev. A . L. Frisbte 

Charge of the Lightning Judge Ray Porter, Esq. 

The Wanderer's Bell Margaret J.Preston 

A Fish Story John Brovjnjohn 

An American Sam Weller, Humorous : •; 

Little Graves, Pathetic LilheSurbrzdge Curry 

Magdalen Edgar L. Wakeman 

llie First Settier'VstoryVPathetic....,...'. ...Will M. Car leiott 

King Christmas ^' Graham. 

Christmas Dialogue, for two girls • • • 

Christmas Thoughts '>.-'Tnr"^^' 

St. Nicholas' Dtishing Bride C. L. Moore. 

Two Views of Christmas, good dialogue Dicktns. 

Hang up the Baby's Stocking 

Marriage of Santa Claus, Humorous 

Christmas Blessing ir ' ' i " Vr ' V " 

A Christmas Dream, fine 1 oem H. A. Foster. 

Through the Loopholes • 



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A bouquet of choice thoughts to tickle the fancy, 
CONTENTS OF No. 4. Price 25 Cents. 

A Tribute to Grant, Eloquent Rev. H. D. Jenkins 

The Joshua of 1776, Fine Description 

The Latest Barbara Frietchie, Comic 

"I.eadviile Jim" W, W. Fink 

Jerry, Pathetic Mary L. Dickinson 

The Wee, Wee Bairnie, Pathetic 

The Mutilated Currency Question, Humorous Brooklyn Eacrle 

Memory, Poem 'James A. Garfield 

How a Song Saved a Soul ... F. L. Stanton 

A Decoration Day Address Rev. H. Stone Richardson 

Mr. Hoffenstein's Bug-le, \'ery Funny 

What the Robin Can Tell 

Mary's Night Ride, Vivid Description G. W. Cable 

Mr. ilopwell's Theory of Suppressing- a Fire, Humorous Detroit Free Press 

A Model Summer Hotel, Humorous Traveler's Record 

Pat and the Oysters, Humorous 

Family Gov ernment, Apt Illustration H. W. Beecher 

The Heroes and the Flowers, Beautiful Description B. F. Taylor 

Expecting to Get Even Boston Bost 

Driving a Hen, Humorous .Mobile Register 

A Retrospective, *' Old Settlers " , 

Where are the Wicked Folks Buried ? Truth Seeker 

Romance of a Hat, Humorous Harper'' s Magazine 

Forever, Sentimental "john Boyle O' Reilly 

Courtship Fair and Square , 

Every Year, Didactic Hon. James Covert 

Temperance Song Recital Mrs. P. D. Brown 

Strangelv Related 

Kit, or Faithful Unto Death, Pathetic 

Sam's Letter, Very Funny Our American Cousin 

Kindness Chas. R, Barrett 

A Tribute to Longfellow F. N. Zabriskie 

Civil War, Tragic 

Petah, Comic 

Drmking a Tear 

The Married Man and the Bachelor 

The V-A-S-E N.Y. Independent 

The Battle of Mission Ridge, Stirring Description Benj. F. Taylor 

Heroic Medley " Herman Page 

A Christmas Carmen J. G. Whittier 

The Girl in Gray Willis Merritt 

An Easter-Tide Deliverance Maria H. Bitlfinch 

Fading George J lowland 

Aurelia's Unfortunate Young Man, Humorous Mark Tzvaiti 

Fritz and His Betsy Fall Out, Humorous George M. Warren 

Help Me Across, Papa, Pathetic Exchange 

Mr. Diffident's Speech 

Scene from Leah the Forsaken, Dramatic 

A Railroad Car Scene - • • . 

Death of Little Hackett, Pathetic T. S. Denison 

Farmer Stebbins' Appearance on Rollers Will Carleton in Harper's Weekly 

An Untiniely Call N. 2". Sun 

He Guessed He'd Fight, Comic 

Only Five Minutes to Live Arkansazo Traveler 

Calling the Angels In 

Calib^'- Fifty- Four Will Carleton, in Harper's Weekly 

Mother's Doughnuts Charles E. Adams 

The Prospects of the Republic; Oration Edward Everett 

Intensely Utter, Humorous Albany Chronicle 

Napoleon Bonaparte Charles P. Phillips 

Autumn Thoughts, Humorous Bill Nye 

A Christmas Song Father Ryan 

The Froward Duster .. .RaV, J. Burdetie 



THE ETHIOPIAN DRAMA. 

Price, IS cts. each, post-paid. 

These plays are all short, and very funny. Nothing poor in the list. Th«y 
serve admirably to give variety to a proeramme. The female characters may be 
assiimed by males in most cases. Where somethings thoroughly comical, but 
unobjectionable is wanted, they are just the thing. 

STAGE STRUCK DABKT. 

A very funny " take*off" on tragedy; 2 male, i female. Time 10 minutes. 
STOCKS UF— STOCKS DOWX. 

» males; a played-^out author and his sympathizing friend; very funny and full 
of " business '* and practical jokes. Time 10 minutes. 

DSAF—IN A HOBX. 

a males; neg^o musician and a deaf pupil. A very interesting question suddea* 
Ijr enables the latter to hear. Full of first-class " business." Time 9 minutes. 

HANDT ANDY, 

2 males; master and servant. The old man is petulant and tl?' ^ servant makes 
all sorts of ludicrous mistakes and misunderstands every order. Very lively in 
action. Time 10 minutes. 

THE MISCHIEVOUS NIGGER, 

A farce; 4 males, 2 females. Characters: The mischievoxu nigger, eld flum, 
J^rench barber, Irishman, widow, nurse. Time 20 minuses. 

THE SHAM DOCTOR, 

A negro farce ; 4 males, a females. This is a tip-top faree. The '*sluun doctor" 
can not fail to bring down the house. Time 15 minutes. 

NO CURE, NO PAT. 

3 males, i female. Doctor Ipecac has a theory that excessive terror will 9ure 
people who are deaf and dimib. His daughter's lover is mistaken for the patient 
to the terror of all. OiUy one darky. A capital little piece for schools or parlor. 
Time 10 minutes. 

TRICKS, 

5 males, a females. (Only two darkys, i male, i female.) A designing old 
step-father wishes to marry his step-daughter for her money. She and ner lover 
plan an elopement. The old man discovers it and has an ingenious counter-plot — 
which fails completely, to his discomfiture. Time 10 minutes. Suited to parlor 
performance. 

HAUNTED HOUSE, 

a males. A white- washer encounters "spirits" in a house he has agreed to 
white-wash. Plenty of business. Time 8 minutes. 

THE TWO POMJPETS. 

4 males. A challenge to a duel is worked up in a very funny way. Time 
6 minutes. 

AN UNHAPPY PAIR, 

3 males, and males for a band. Two hungry niggers strike tlie musicianr 
for a square meal. Good for school or parlor, and very tunny. Time xo minutes. 



~ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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Plays by T. S. DENISON. 

ODDS WITH THE ENEMY. 

A dra.^ia in five acts ; 7 male and 4 fe- 
male characters. Time, 2 hours. 

SETH GREENBACK. 

A drama in four acts; 7 male and 3 fe- 
male. Time, i hour 15 m. 

INITIATING A GRANGER. 

A ludicrous farce ; S male. Time, 25 m. 

TWO GHOSTS IN WHITE. 

A humrrous farce based on boarding-- 
scliool life ; 7 female characters. Time, 
25 m. 

THE ASSESSOR, 

A humorous sketch; 3 male and 2 fe- 
male. Time, 15 m. 

BORROWING TROUBLE. 

A ludicrous farce; 3 male and g fe- 
tchIQ:, Time, 30 m. 

COUNTRY JUSTICE. 

A very amusina;- country law suit; 8 
male characters. (May admit 14.) Time, 
15 m. 

THE PULL-BACK. 
A laughable farce; 6 female. Time, 
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HANS VON SMASH. 
A roaring- farce in a prolog^ue and one 
act; 4 male and 3 female. Time, 30 m. 

OUR COUNTRY. 

A patriotic drama in three parts. Re- 
quires 9 male, 3 female, (Admits 9 male 
1"; female.) Four fine tabh.-aux. Time, 
about I hour. 

THE SCHOOL MA'AM, 

A briliant comedy in four acts; 6 male, 
5 female. Time, i hour 45 inin. 

THE IRISH LINEN PEDDLER. 

A lively farce ; 3 male, 3 female. Time, 
45 m. 

THE KANSAS IMMIGRANTS; Or, the 

Great Exodus. 
A roaring- farce; 5 male, i female. 
Time, 30 m. 

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING. 

A splendid farce; 3 male, 6 female. 
Time, 45 m. 

IS THE EDITOR IN? 

A farce; 4 male and 2 female. 

AN ONLY DAUGHTER. 

A drama in three acts ; 5 male and 2 
female. Time, i hour 15 m, 

PETS OF SOCIETY. 

A farce in high life ; 7 females. Time, 
30 m. 

T. S. DEN 



mal 

T'Sie '103 2^^ g 

A v^, y iiiaie and 4 fe- 

male characters. Time, i hour 45 m. 

UNDER THE LAURELS. 

A drama in five acts; a stirring- play, 
fully equal to Louva the Pauj>er. Five 
male, 4 feirale. Time, i hour 45 m. 

THE SPARKLING CUP. 

A temperance drama in five acts; 12 
male and 4 female. 



Plays by H. Ellio tt McBride. 

ON THE BRINK. 

A temperance drama in two acts; 12 
male, 3 female. Time, i hour 45 m. 

A BAD JOB. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 30 m. 

PLAYED AND LOST, 

A sketch; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 
20 m. 

MY JEREMIAH. 
A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 25 m* 

LUCY'S OLD MAN. 

A sketch; 2 male, 3 female. Time, 20 
m. 

THE COW THAT KICKED CHICAGO. 

A farce; 3 male, 2 female. Time, 25 m. 

I'LL STAY AWHILE. 

A farce; 4 male. Time, 25 m. 



THE FRIDAY AFTERNJOH DIALOGUES, 

Short and lively. For boys and girls. ' 
— Price 26 cts. 

FRIDAY AFTERNOON SPEAKER- 

A choice collection. Three parts: for 
little folks, for older boys and girls, short 
pithy dialogues. — Ptice 25 cts. 

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WORK AND PLAY. 

BY MARY J. jACqUES. 

A gem for the little folks. This is a 
book of both instruction and amusement. 
Part I consists of a large v'.riety of very 
easy progressive exercises in letters, 
numbers, objects, geography, language, 
animated nature, motion, songs, etc. 
Part II consists of dialotrues, charades, 
pantomimes, etc. all original.— Price, 
in Manilla boards, post paid, 50 cts. 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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